GIFT   OF 
MICHAEL  REE^E 


From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 


From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

An  Expedition  through  Mesopotamia 
and  Kurdistan 


BY 


G.   E.   HUBBARD 

SECRETARY  OF  DELIMITATION  COMMISSION 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


New  York 

E.   P,   Button   &   Company 

1917 


ALL   RIG  ins  RESERVED 


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PREFACE. 


I  HAVE  to  preface  this  book  with  an  apology — 
and,  worse  still,  an  excuse.  The  apology  is  for 
venturing  to  publish  at  the  present  time  the 
record  of  a  journey  which  (except  for  quite  the 
last  stage)  took  place  in  that  almost  prehistoric 
epoch  before  the  war.  My  excuse  is  twofold : 
firstly,  that  fifteen  months  of  enforced  idleness 
drove  me  into  writing  it ;  and,  secondly,  that 
subsequent  events  have  contrived  to  add  a  special 
interest  which  it  could  not  otherwise  have  claimed. 
Althou^-h  in  no  sense  a  ''  war-book,"  it  deals  with 
countries  which  have  been  the  scene  of  two,  if  not 
three,  campaigns  in  the  present  war,  and  on  this 
fact  I  rely  to  justify  my  temerity. 

The  first  of  these  campaigns — taking  them  in 
the  order  of  our  journey  from  South  to  North — 
is  the  British  Expedition  to  Mesopotamia.  Its 
main  features  are  so  well  known  as  barely  to 
need  repetition  :  the  landing  of  our  force  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Shatt-el-Arab  in  November  1914; 
the  battle  of  Fao  and  the  fall  of  Basra  ;  the  expe- 
dition under  General  Gorringe  up  the  Karun  to 


376143 


VI 


Preface 


Ahwaz  to  safeguard  the  oil-iields  and  the  pipe-line, 
ending  in  the  successful  "  rounding-up"  of  the 
Turks  at  Amara ;  the  storming  of  Kurna,  the 
advance  up  the  Tigris,  the  pitched  battles  at 
Kut-el-Amara  and  Ctesiphon,  and,  last  of  all,  the 
gallant  stand  and  ultimate  surrender  of  General 
Townshend's  force.  But  unless  one  has  been  to  the 
country,  seen  the  desert  and  the  marsh  and  the 
date-groves  lining  the  Tigris,  and  known— even 
in  its  mildest  form — the  heat  of  those  limitless 
plains,  it  is  impossible  to  conjure  up  any  true 
picture  of  what  our  British  and  Indian  troops  went 
through,  or  fully  to  realise  their  extraordinary 
fortitude.  I  hope,  therefore,  to  supply  in  the 
earlier  chapters  of  my  book  a  slight  background 
for  this  campaign. 

Apart  from  the  actual  fighting,  moreover,  a 
certain  degree  of  interest  must  centre  around  the 
town  of  Basra,  the  port  of  Mesopotamia  and 
the  one  important  place  which  we  occupy  and 
administer.  It  is  an  interest,  too,  which  is 
hardly  likely  to  vanish  with  the  end  of  the 
war.  Without  hazarding  any  rash  guesses  into 
the  future,  one  may  well  recall  in  this  respect 
the  words  of  the  Viceroy  of  India  to  the  people 
of  Basra,  spoken  during  his  visit  to  that  town  in 
January  1915  :  "  The  British  occupation  has  raised 
problems  which  require  prompt  consideration  and 
settlement.  I  have  come  here  to  see  local  condi- 
tions for  myself  in  order  the  better  to  judge  what 
measures  are  necessary.     You  are  aware  that  we 


Preface  vii 

are  not  engaged  single-handed  in  this  great 
struggle,  and  we  cannot  lay  down  plans  for  the 
future  without  a  full  exchange  of  views  with  the 
other  great  Powers,  but  I  can  hold  out  the  assur- 
ance that  the  future  will  bring  you  a  more  benign 


rule.' 


Coming  next  to  Bagdad,  Kasr-i-Sherin,  and  the 
Kermanshah  road,  which  form  the  subject  of 
Chapters  YII.  and  IX.,  we  enter  the  sphere  of 
quite  another  series  of  operations.  This  was  the 
route  by  which  the  Turkish  troops  entered  Persia 
last  year,  hoping  by  joining  hands  with  the 
German-led  Persian  rebels  to  wreck  the  influence 
of  England  and  Russia  in  that  country ;  only  to 
retreat  again  by  the  same  road  after  successive 
defeats  by  the  Russians  at  Hamadan,  Kangaver, 
and  Kermanshah.  At  the  time  of  writing,  General 
Baratoff's  troops  have  reached  and  taken  Kasr-i- 
Sherin  itself. 

Finally,  the  Northern  part — that  is,  Azerbaijan. 
The  details  of  the  fighting  there  are  probably 
less  familiar  to  people  in  England,  but  it  will  be 
remembered  how  in  the  autumn  of  1914  the 
Turks,  who  were  just  then  making  a  bold  attempt 
to  reach  Tiflis,  violated  the  Persian  frontier  near 
Urmia.  The  story  of  the  wholesale  massacre  of  the 
Christian  (Nestorian)  population  by  the  Kurdish 
irregulars — who  ravaged  as  far  as  Tabriz,  burning 
hundreds  of  villages  and  driving  the  weak  Russian 


Vlll 


Preface 


garrison  out  of  the  province  for  the  time  being — 
reached  us  only  in  scanty  paragraphs  and  an  occa- 
sional letter  or  two  in  the  Press.  Of  the  events  in 
the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  Urmia,  I  give  a 
brief  account  in  the  last  chapter  of  the  book.  As 
the  tide  slowly  turned  against  Turkey  in  the 
Caucasus,  and  the  Russians  advanced  towards 
Trebizond  and  Yan,  the  invaders  of  Azerbaijan 
found  their  position  untenable,  and  by  the  spring 
they  were  back  again  on  their  own  side  of  the 
frontier.  Thus  have  the  tentacles  of  the  great 
world- war  reached  out  to  and  embraced  practically 
the  whole  of  that  remote  region  of  Western  Asia 
which  was  the  scene  of  the  journey  described  in 
the  following  pages. 

The  substance  of  this  book  consists  of  little  more 
than  a  record  of  jDersonai  experiences  and  impres- 
sions of  the  tribes  and  countries  through  which 
we  passed.  Politics  lie  outside  its  scope,  and  I 
have  condensed  within  the  limits  of  a  single 
chapter  what  little  I  have  to  say  on  such  general 
topics  as  the  connection  between  our  own  country 
and  Mesopotamia.  Even  the  thrilling  adventures 
which  season  so  many  travellers'  tales  play,  I  fear, 
but  a  small  part  in  my  narrative,  and  the  utmost 
that  I  can  confidently  promise  the  reader  is  to 
conduct  him  (should  his  patience  permit)  by  little- 
trodden  paths  "  from  the  Gulf  to  Ararat." 

May  1916. 


NOTE. 


The  majority  of  the  photographs  which  illus- 
trate this  book  were  taken  by  Captain  Brooke, 
who  has  kindly  allowed  me  to  use  them  for  this 
purpose ;  for  a  great  number  of  the  remainder 
I  am  indebted  to  Mr  Wratislaw. 

Captain  "Wilson  has  been  of  the  greatest  help 
to  me  in  many  ways,  in  particular  by  lending  me 
his  notes  on  various  districts. 

Finally,  I  have  to  thank  Mr  W.  Foster,  CLE., 
of  the  India  Office,  for  enabling  me  to  consult 
extracts  from  the  early  records  of  the  Honourable 
East  India  Company,  and  the  Editor  of  'The 
Near  East '  for  the  loan  of  old  files  dealing  with 
irrigation  in  Mesopotamia. 

I  have  acknowledged  assistance  from  other 
writers  in  the  body  of  the  book. 

G.  E.  H. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 

I.    THE    FRONTIER 

II.    MARSEILLES    TO    MOHAMMERAH 
III.    PRELIMINARIES    TO    THE    START 
IV.    THROUGH    THE    LAND    OF    ELAM    (1) 
V.    THROUGH    THE    LAND    OF    ELAM    (2) 
VI.    THE   WALI    OF   PUSHT-1-KUH 
VII.    TOWARDS   BAGDAD     . 
VIII.    DAR-EL-KHALIFEH      . 
IX.    MESOPOTAMIA   IN    RETROSPECT 
X.    ENTERING   KURDISTAN 
XI.    ALONG    THE    AVROMANS       . 
XII.    THE    HEART    OF    KURDISTAN 

XIII.  KURDISH    HISTORY,    CUSTOMS,    AND 

XIV.  FROM    THE    ZAB    TO    USHNU 
XV.    THE    LAST    STAGE       . 

INDEX  .... 


CHARACTER 


1 

25 

42 

58 

76 

97 

104 

121 

137 

158 

174 

192 

210 

226 

246 

271 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


OUR    INDIAN    ESCORT.       18TH    K.G.O.    LANCERS 

THE   BRITISH    COMMISSION 

OUR    TURKISH   AND    PERSIAN    COLLEAGUES 

BASRA    CREEK 

ARAB  REED  HUTS  . 

THE  ASHAR   . 

MOHAMMERAH.       A    CREEK    OFF   THE    KARDn 

RIVERSIDE,    MOHAMMERAH 

THE    sheikh's   FEAST 

MULES    AND    A   YABU 

TWO    MULETEERS 

ON    THE    KERKHA       . 

CROSSING    THE    KERKHA 

ESCORT   WATERING    HORSES 

HOUSE-BUILDING    IN    ARABISTAN 

A   LUR   TENT    . 

SUS    PERSICA   . 

SAVING   THE    TENTS  . 

IBRAHIM 


Frontispiece 

'aciiig 

p.  16 

18 

32 

34 

34 

40 

40 

48 

52 

52 

66 

66 

70 

70 

76 

76 

82 

82 

XIV 


List  of  Illustrations 


AN    "EASY"     .... 

THE    AUTHOR   AND    "ARCHIBALD 

NEARING    CAMP 

THE    MAIL   ARRIVES 

THE    WALl's    HORSE  . 

THE    WALl's    VIZIER 

MENDELI  .... 

BEDRAI 

BAGDAD.       BRIDGE    OF    BOATS      . 
*'HAJJI    LAK-LAK  "  . 

GUFAS      

A   BAGDAD    FERRY     . 

THE    RIVERSIDE    AT    BAGDAD 

THE    EDGE    OF    THE    DESERT 

KHAN    AT    KIZILROBAT 

KASR-I-SHERIN 

THE    PLAIN    OF    ZOHAB 

BAMU       . 

KURDS    OF   HALEBJA 

A   VILLAGE    IN    CENTRAL   KURDISTAN 

DERVISH    TEKKEH,    TAVILA 

NAKHSBENDI    DERVISHES    . 

A    KURDISH    HOUSE  . 

A    MOUNTAIN    TRACK    IN    KURDISTAN 

THE    VILLAGE    OF    "  AMBER-ROSE  " 

PIRAN 


Facing  }!.  88 

88 


List  of  Illustrations 


XV 


THE  MAD  HAJJI Facing  p. 

A   SCENE    TYPICAL    OF    CENTRAL    KURDISTAN 

THE   IDEAL   CAMPING-GROUND     . 

BEYEZ    AGHA,    CHIEF    OP   THE    MANGUR   TRIBE 

MUKRI    KURDS    AT    VEZNEH 

A    KURD   AND    HIS    PIPE     . 

KURDISH   TENT 

LITTLE    MUSA    KHAN 

RUSSIAN    COSSACK      . 

TOBACCO    FIELDS,    URMIA 

THE    GRAIN    MARKET    AT    URMIA 

THE  REV.  O.  F.  SPEARING  AND  THE  REV.  J.  D.  BARNARD 
OF  THE  ARCHBISHOP  OP  CANTERBURY'S  MISSION 
AT   URMIA  

BRITISH    AND    RUSSIAN    OFFICERS    AT    URMIA 

BROUGHT    TO    BOOK  ...... 


208 
208 
226 
226 
230 
230 
236 
236 
244 
244 
252 


256 
260 
268 


FROM  THE  GULF  TO  ARARAT. 


CHAPTEE    I. 

THE    FRONTIER. 

In  the  autumn  of  1914,  a  few  weeks  after  the 
outbreak  of  the  War,  a  small  party  consisting  of 
Enghshmen,  Russians,  Turks,  and  Persians  arrived 
on  a  snow-clad  spur  of  Mount  Ararat,  constructed 
an  unobtrusive  stone  pillar  beneath  the  shadow 
of  the  great  17,000 -foot  peak,  and  swiftly  dis- 
persed, each  to  his  own  country.  Such  (thanks 
to  the  Hun)  were  the  inglorious  circumstances 
which  attended  the  culminating  act  of  seventy 
odd  years  of  diplomatic  pourparlers,  special  com- 
missions, and  international  conferences  between 
the  four  Powers  concerned. 

To  give  more  than  the  barest  outline  of  the 
history  of  the  Turco  -  Persian  frontier  question 
during  those  seventy  years  is  manifestly  out  of 
the  question ;  the  dossier  containing  its  record 
being,  I  verily  believe,  of  a  length  to  stretch  from 


2  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

end  to  end  of  the  entire  1180  miles  which  con- 
stitute the  actual  frontier.  At  the  same  time,  a 
short  summary  is,  I  think,  excusable,  firstly,  in 
order  to  explain  the  origin  of  our  journey ; 
secondly,  as  an  example  (though  happily  not  a 
very  typical  one)  of  the  way  a  frontier  comes  into 
being ;  and  thirdly,  as  a  phenomenon  of  procras- 
tination unparalleled  even  in  the  chronicles  of 
Oriental  diplomacy.  Fate  has  contrived,  more- 
over, to  stage  this  particular  scrap  of  history  in 
her  most  dramatic  style  by  arranging  a  "curtain" 
for  each  one  of  the  three  principal  acts  in  the 
shape  of  a  European  war — the  Crimean,  the  Russo- 
Turkish,  and  lastly  the  Armageddon  of  to-day. 

You  may  trace  on  a  map  of  Western  Asia  a 
dark  line  of  mountains  w^hich,  after  disentan- 
gling itself  from  the  confused  mountain -mass 
of  Armenia  around  Ararat,  stretches  S.S.E.  to 
near  the  top  right  -  hand  corner  of  the  Persian 
Gulf.  On  the  map  it  looks,  perhaps,  rather  a 
smudge  than  a  line,  for  it  spreads  out  to  a  great 
breadth  in  a  series  of  parallel  ranges.  But  the 
backbone  or  "  chaine  magistrale" — to  borrow  an 
expressive  phrase  —  is  in  reality  fairly  clearly 
defined,  and  constitutes  a  huge  barrier,  difficult 
to  cross  in  summer  and  impassable  in  winter, 
separating  the  great  Persian  plateau  from  the 
plains  of  Mesopotamia.  It  is,  in  fact — like  the 
Alps  or  the  Pyrenees,  or,  on  a  far  larger  scale, 
the  Himalayas — one  of  Nature's  frontiers,  and 
nations  have  conformed   to   it   as   such   from   the 


The  Frontier  3 

earliest  historical  times.  It  served  as  a  boundary 
on  the  East  for  Assyria,  and  on  the  West  for 
Media.  Often,  of  course,  the  countries  on  either 
side  have  been  temporarily  united  within  a  single 
empire,  as,  for  instance,  when  Alexander  from  the 
one  side  thrust  through  to  India,  or  Khosroe 
from  the  other  extended  his  dominions  to  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  or  again  when  a 
human  avalanche  under  Chengiz  Khan  or  Tamer- 
lane engulfed  everything,  and  swept  all  frontiers 
clean  out  of  existence.  But  sooner  or  later  this 
great  mountain  range  has  invariably  resumed  its 
original  role  as  a  divider  of  nations,  and  in  this 
capacity  it  has  always  formed  the  basis  of  the 
frontier  neo^otiations  between  the  Governments 
of  Turkey  and  Persia. 

These  two  Empires  first  came  into  contact  early 
in  the  sixteenth  century.  At  that  time  Persia 
was  rapidly  recovering  from  the  devastation  of 
the  Mongol  invasions,  and  finding  again  her  entity 
as  a  nation.  Her  risorgimento  happened  to  cor- 
respond with  the  amazing  wave  of  success  which 
carried  the  Ottoman  armies  as  far  afield  as  Egypt 
and  Tunis,  and,  eventually,  up  to  the  very  gates 
of  Vienna.  Suleyman  the  Magnificent,  turning 
his  attention  momentarily  towards  the  East,  con- 
quered Northern  Kurdistan  and  Azerbaijan,  and 
marched  his  armies  down  to  Bagdad,  which  he 
captured  in  the  year  1534.  Then  the  tide  turned 
in  favour  of  the  Persians.  Shah  Abbas — their 
Charlemagne — retook  most  of  the  Northern  pro- 


4  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

vinces,  expelled  the  Turks  from  Bagdad,  and 
established  a  frontier  along  the  Tigris.  The 
pendulum  having  thus  swung  both  ways,  finally 
came  to  rest  in  1639,  when  Murad  IV.  definitely 
won  Bagdad  for  Turkey,  and  settled  the  frontier 
by  treaty  along  very  much  the  same  line  as  it 
follows  to-day. 

It  was  almost  exactly  two  hundred  years  later 
that  England  and  Eussia  first    became  involved 
in   the   Turco- Persian  frontier  dispute.      Murad's 
treaty    had    by    then    disappeared,    the    Turkish 
original    having    been    destroyed    in    one    of   the 
big    fires    which    are    such    frequent    events    at 
Stamboul,    the    Persian    in    one    of    the    revolu- 
tionary  upheavals  of  hardly   rarer  occurrence  at 
the   Persian    capital.      In    1842   frontier  frays  on 
a  large    scale  brought  the   two  countries   to   the 
brink   of  war.      The    Persians    complained   of  an 
unprovoked  attack  by  the  Turkish  ruler  of  Suley- 
mania  on  their  subject,  the  Vali  of  Ardelan,  while 
the    Turks    retorted    that   the    fertile    district    of 
Zohab,  assured   to  them  by  the  treaty  of  1639, 
was  still  occupied  and  held  by  Persia.     Another 
incident  which   had  helped  to   bring    matters    to 
a   crisis   was  an  attack  on  Mohammerah   by   the 
Pasha  of  Bagdad,  an  account  of  which  last  exploit 
from   the  diary  of  General  Tchirikoff  is  perhaps 
worth  quoting  as  a  sample  of  Arab  warfare  : — 

"Ali  Biza  Pasha  led  his  force  from  Bagdad 
down  the  right  bank  of  the  Tigris,  conveying 
his  provisions  and  supplies  in  boats. 


The  Frontier  5 

*'  For  the  defence  of  Mohammerah  the  whole 
Chaab  tribe  assembled  to  the  number  of  about 
25,000,  as  is  asserted  with  evident  exaggeration. 
The  town  was  filled  with  them,  those  who  could 
not  find  room  in  it  occupying  a  piece  of  ground 
on  the  left  between  the  palms  and  the  desert. 

"  Ali  E-iza  Pasha  opened  fire  on  the  town  with 
his  artillery  without  delay.  The  Arabs  replied 
from  the  wall  with  their  gun,  and  with  fire  from 
small  arms.  But  the  fire  of  neither  side  carried 
far  enough.  Ali  E>iza  Pasha  went  to  his  artillery- 
men, reproved  them  for  firing  so  badly  and  for 
not  putting  enough  powder  in  the  guns,  and 
promised  5000  piastres  to  any  one  who  knocked 
over  the  gun  in  the  town.  Soon  afterwards  the 
Mohammerah  gun  burst,  probably  owing  to  the 
inexperience  of  the  Arabs  in  regard  to  artillery, 
and  to  overcharging.  Several  men  near  the  gun 
w^ere  killed.  The  Turks  thought  their  fire  had 
destroyed  the  gun,  and  they  even  name  a  young 
artilleryman,  who,  they  say,  fired  a  ball  into  a 
ball  which  had  not  yet  left  the  Arab  gun,  and 
thus  caused  the  latter  to  burst.  This  event  pro- 
duced a  panic  among  the  Arabs.  The  Turks  then 
made  an  attack  in  three  divisions,  the  artillery 
in  the  centre,  one  regiment  of  infantry  on  the 
right,  the  other,  with  the  Muntefik,  on  the 
left. 

"  The  defenders  of  the  town  all  ran  away  before 
the  Turks  reached  th©  walls.  Thus  the  town  was 
taken  without  fighting.     Slaughtering  and  plunder 


6  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

followed.  The  town  and  all  the  surrounding 
villaores  were  burnt  down." 

Events  such  as  these  naturally  did  not  conduce 
to  amity  between  the  two  nations,  and  it  was  the 
state  of  affairs  which  resulted  therefrom  that  first 
brouofht  Great  Britain  and  Russia  on  to  the  scene. 

Russia,  having  doubtless  in  mind  the  tran- 
quillity of  her  newly  acquired  provinces  of 
Armenia  and  Georgia,  wished  if  possible  to  avert 
a  war  ;  nor  could  Great  Britain,  with  her  millions 
of  Indian  subjects  and  her  trade  interests  in  the 
Gulf,  afford  to  look  quietly  on  while  the  two 
Mussulman  neighbours  went  for  each  other's 
throats.  It  must  be  remembered  that  Persia 
was  at  that  period  a  military  Power,  and  pos- 
sibly quite  a  match  for  Turkey,  enfeebled  as  she 
then  was  by  two  recent  wars. 

At  this  time  Sir  Stratford  Canning  — "  the 
Great  Elchi,"  as  he  came  to  be  called — was  our 
Ambassador  at  Constantinople,  and  his  unique  in- 
fluence with  the  Porte,  combined  with  that  of  his 
Russian  colleague,  was  successful  in  inducing  the 
Turkish  Government  to  substitute  the  pen  for 
the  sword.  The  Persian  Government  having  con- 
sented too,  a  commission  was  convened  at  Erzeroum 
to  discuss  the  frontier  question.  Great  Britain 
was  represented  by  three  Commissioners — Colonel 
Williams  (the  famous  defender  of  Kars  in  the 
Crimean  War),  Major  Far  rant,  and  the  Hon. 
Robert    Curzon,^    a    cousin    of  the    ex-Viceroy   of 

1  Author  of  '  Visits  to  Monasteries  of  the  Levant.' 


The  Frontier  7 

India.  The  last  -  named  (whose  Kterary  genius 
admits  of  a  fair  comparison  with  that  of  the 
immortal  Kinglake)  has  left  in  his  'Armenia'  a 
vivid  account  of  the  extraordinary  rigours  and 
discomforts  of  the  journey  from  Constantinople 
across  the  Black  Sea  to  Trebizond,  and  from 
there  on  horseback  over  the  mountains  to 
Erzeroum,  as  well  as  of  the  rough,  not  to  say 
dangerous,  existence  of  the  three  Englishmen  in 
that  bleak  Armenian  town.  He  describes  the 
primitive  dwelling — half  house,  half  stable — where 
the  Commissioners  were  lodged  in  the  company 
of  a  mixed  society  of  nineteen  lambs  (who  spent 
the  day  taking  the  air  on  the  roof),  one  hen,  a 
white  Persian  cat  with  her  tail  stained  pink  with 
henna,  and  a  lemming  "  who  passed  his  life  in 
a  brass-bound  foot-tub."  That  any  of  the  Com- 
mission survived  to  tell  the  tale  is  remarkable. 
The  Persian  representative  was  attacked  by  a 
furious  mob  of  some  thousands  of  Sunnis  and  be- 
sieged in  his  house  for  several  hours ;  Curzon's 
two  British  colleagues  were  so  nearly  suffocated 
by  charcoal  fumes  in  their  semi-subterranean  home 
that  they  were  only  rescued  in  a  fainting  condi- 
tion by  the  Bussian  Commissioner  coming  to  pay  a 
call ;  while  Curzon  himself  had  the  following  hair- 
breadth escape  : — 

''  Mirza  Jaffer,  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine 
when  he  was  Ambassador  from  Persia  to  the 
Porte,  was  too  unwell  to  leave  Tabriz,  and  Mirza 
Tekee  was  appointed  Persian  Plenipotentiary  in- 


8  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

stead.  On  his  arrival  within  sight  of  Erzeroum 
from  Persia,  all  the  great  people,  except  the  Pasha 
and  the  Commissioners,  went  out  on  horseback  to 
meet  him  and  accompany  him  on  his  entry  into 
the  town.  There  was  a  great  concourse  and  a 
prodigious  firing  of  guns  at  full  gallop,  which,  as 
the  guns  are  generally  loaded  with  ball  cartridge 
bought  ready  -  made  in  the  bazaar,  though  in- 
tended as  an  honour,  is  a  somewhat  dangerous 
display.  Unable  to  resist  so  picturesque  a  sight, 
I  had  ridden  out  on  the  Persian  road,  though  I  did 
not  join  the  escort,  and,  having  returned,  I  was 
walking  up  and  down  on  the  roof  of  the  house 
watching  the  crowds  passing  in  the  valley  be- 
low, and  looking  at  the  great  guns  of  the  citadel 
which  the  soldiers  were  firing  as  a  salute.  They 
fired  very  well,  in  very  good  time,  but  I  observed 
several  petty  officers  and  a  number  of  men  busily 
employed  at  one  gun,  the  last  to  the  left  near  the 
corner  of  the  battery.  At  length  this  gun  was 
loaded.  A  prodigious  deal  of  peeping  and  point- 
ing took  place  out  of  the  embrasure,  and,  just  as 
I  was  turning  in  my  walk,  bang  went  the  cannon, 
and  I  was  covered  with  dust  from  something  which 
struck  the  ground  in  the  yard  in  a  line  below  my 
feet.  On  looking  down  to  see  what  this  could 
be,  I  saw  a  ball  stuck  in  the  earth ;  the  soldiers 
had  all  disappeared  from  the  ramparts  of  the 
citadel,  and  I  found  they  had  been  taking  a  shot 
at  the  British  Commissioner''' 

But  to  return  to  our  subject.     The  joint  Com- 


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mission  sat  at  Erzeroum  for  four  years,  examining 
documents  and  interviewing  important  witnesses 
such  as  the  Governor  of  Zohab  and  the  Sheikh 
of  Mohammerah,  who  travelled  thither  to  give 
evidence.  In  1847  their  labours  culminated  in 
the  Treaty  of  Erzeroum,  by  which  the  broad 
points  at  issue  were  settled,  and  a  Commission 
of  Delimitation  was  appointed  to  lay  down  the 
frontier  on  the  spot. 

This  new  Commission,  on  which  Great  Britain 
was  represented  by  Colonel  Williams  alone,  met 
at  Bagdad  in  1848,  and  proceeded  to  the  southern 
end  of  the  frontier.  How  evil  a  reputation  for 
lawlessness  the  frontier  then  enjoyed  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  their  escort  was  settled  at  two 
battalions  of  infantry,  a  squadron  of  cavalry,  and 
two  guns,  to  be  provided  by  each  of  the  prin- 
cipal parties.  Ostentation  must,  however,  have 
been  the  chief  motive  when  a  gunboat  with  six 
guns  was  specially  built  to  carry  Dervish  Pasha,  the 
Ottoman  Commissioner,  from  Bagdad  to  Moham- 
merah. Colonel  Wilhams  arrived  at  the  latter 
place  on  the  East  India  Company's  Nicrotis,  and 
after  a  great  firing  of  salutes,  as  is  reported,  their 
work  began. 

From  1848  till  1852  they  spent  in  travelling 
spasmodically  up  and  down  the  frontier,  their 
work  delayed  and  disorganised  by  the  obstruc- 
tiveness  of  both  the  principals,  and  in  particular 
by  the  erratic  movements  of  Dervish  Pasha — an 
over  -  zealous   patriot,   who   thought  to    serve    his 


lo  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

country's  cause  by  breaking  away  periodically  on 
'^  tours  of  investigation,"  in  the  course  of  which 
he  would  erect  a  line  of  boundary  pillars  to  suit 
his  own  personal  views.  At  the  same  time 
the  frontier  zone  was  surveyed  by  British  and 
Russian  engineers,  but  all  the  efforts  of  Lord 
Palmerston  and  the  Russian  Foreign  Minister 
could  not  reconcile  the  rival  parties  sufficiently 
to  allow  of  a  line  being  laid  down  on  the 
ground. 

The  only  records,  so  far  as  I  know,  of  that 
journey  exist  in  the  Diary  of  General  TchirikofF, 
the  Russian  representative,  which  was  published 
later  by  his  own  Government,  and  in  a  book 
devoted  principally  to  archaeological  discoveries 
by  Mr  W.  K.  Loftus,  an  English  archaeologist 
attached  to  the  Commission  during  part  of  its 
travels.  Even  Colonel  Williams'  official  report  is 
not  extant,  as  that  valuable  record  of  four  years' 
arduous  toil,  having  reached  England,  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  be  dropped  overboard  near  Gravesend, 
and  found  a  sepulchre  in  the  mud  of  the  Thames. 
Negotiations  continued  after  the  Commission's 
return  to  Constantinople  for  rather  more  than 
a  year,  when  the  Crimean  War  broke  out  and 
brought  them  to  an  abrupt  end. 

When  the  war  was  over  the  frontier  question 
was  almost  at  once  resumed.  The  first  thing  to 
do  was  to  make  a  large-scale  map  of  the  frontier 
zone.  For  this  purpose  Commander  Glascott,  R.N., 
who   had   made  the  British    survey,  went   to  St 


The  Frontier  1 1 

Petersburg,  where  he  and  the  Eusslan  surveyors 
worked  at  their  respective  maps  till  1865.  When 
at  last  the  maps  were  ready  they  were — appar- 
ently for  the  first  time  —  compared,  the  result 
being  that  by  the  time  eight  out  of  the  seven- 
teen sheets  which  composed  each  set  had  been 
examined,  four  thousand  discrepancies  in  names, 
places,  &c.,  were  discovered.  As  it  was  clearly 
useless  for  the  purpose  in  question  to  have  two 
maps  which  were  so  very  discordant,  the  surveyors 
returned  to  their  drawing  tables  and,  by  some 
surprising  feat  of  cartography,  so  manipulated  the 
two  versions  as  to  produce  a  single  copy  known 
henceforth  by  the  euphemistic  title  of  the  Carte 
Identique.  This  map,  executed  on  a  scale  of  one 
inch  to  a  mile,  was  completed  in  1869,  just  twenty 
years  after  the  first  surveys  were  begun, — its  Eng- 
lish co-author  having  in  the  course  of  his  labours 
risen  from  the  rank  of  lieutenant  to  that  of  post- 
captain  in  the  Royal  Navy — a  unique  record,  one 
may  reasonably  suppose,  in  the  annals  of  the 
science.  The  share  of  this  country  alone  in  the 
cost  of  production  ran  well  into  five  figures. 

Now  that  the  representatives  of  the  Moham- 
medan Powers  could  sit  in  academic  comfort 
round  a  map  and  discuss  things  free  from  the 
petty  vexations  of  Oriental  travel,  there  seemed 
at  last  every  hope  of  a  satisfactory  end  to  the 
dispute.  But  after  five  more  years  of  negotia- 
tion and  correspondence,  the  only  progress  made 
was   an    admission    by    Turkey    and    Persia    that 


12  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

the  frontier  lay  "  somewhere  within "  the  zone 
(a  strip  averaging  twenty-five  miles  wide)  rep- 
resented on  the  map,  and  an  undertaking  not  to 
erect  any  new  buildings  or  otherwise  prejudice 
each  other's  claims  within  that  strip. ^  The  ex- 
planation is  perhaps  to  be  found  in  those  influ- 
ences which  Lord  Curzon  summed  up  as  follows 
in  his  Romanes  Lecture  in  1907  on  "  Frontiers." 
"Li  Asia,"  he  said,  "there  has  always  been  a 
strong  instinctive  aversion  to  the  acceptance  of 
fixed  boundaries,  arising  partly  from  the  nomadic 
habits  of  the  people,  partly  from  the  dislike 
of  precise  arrangements  that  is  typical  of  the 
Oriental  mind,  but  more  still  from  the  idea  that 
in  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune  more  is  to  be  ex- 
pected from  an  unsettled  than  from  a  settled 
frontier." 

Fresh  frontier  incidents  were  continually  crop- 
ping up  meanwhile.  Anxious  to  avoid  a  rup- 
ture, England  and  Eussia  again  intervened,  and 
appointed  delegates  to  assist  in  the  discussion, 
the    British    delegate    being    General    Sir   Arnold 

1  This  stipulation,  though  frequently  broken  in  other  ways,  was 
adhered  to  au  pied  de  la  lettre  in  one  rather  humorous  instance.  It 
was  proposed  to  link  up  the  two  countries  by  a  line  of  telegraph  wires 
along  the  Bagdad-Kermanshah  route.  Here,  as  almost  everywhere, 
there  was  a  strip  of  territory  to  which  each  side  laid  jealous  claim, 
and  a  terrible  difficulty  arose.  Turkish  telegraph  wires  are  carried 
on  iron  posts,  Persian  on  wooden  sticks  (one  can  hardly  grace  them 
with  a  more  imposing  name).  To  set  up  a  row  of  either  across  the 
debatable  strip  might  prejudice  the  other  side's  claim.  A  solution  of 
truly  Oriental  ingenuity  was  found  to  the  problem — the  line  was  put 
up  with  iron  posts  and  wooden  sticks  set  alternately. 


The  Frontier  13 

Kemball.  By  a  process  familiar  to  any  one  who 
has  watched  the  making  of  purchases  in  an 
Oriental  bazaar,  the  two  lines  representing  the 
rival  claims  on  the  map  approached  closer  and 
closer  by  infinitesimal  degrees.  The  jpazarluk 
was  almost  concluded  in  1877,  when  for  the 
second  time  fate  stepped  in.  The  Servian  War 
broke  out,  to  be  followed  immediately  after  by 
the  Russo-Turkish  campaign. 

After  the  Treaty  of  Berlin  the  frontier  question 
was  soon  resumed,  and  once  more  a  mixed  Com- 
mission, including  Sir  Arnold  Kemball,  made  the 
arduous  journey  to  the  frontier,— this  time  to 
investigate  a  local  dispute  concerning  Kotur,  a 
district  not  far  from  the  new  Russian  boundary. 
Their  efforts  were  entirely  abortive,  thanks  to 
Turkish  obstinacy,  which  has  remained  so  per- 
sistent in  the  matter  that  this  particular  stretch 
of  frontier  (some  thirty  miles  in  length)  had  to 
be  skipped  over  when  the  whole  of  the  rest  was 
finally  demarcated  in  1914. 

By  1885  the  British  Government  had  spent, 
it  is  reckoned,  over  £100,000  in  one  way  or 
another  over  the  Turco-Persian  frontier,  with 
nothing  to  show  for  it  except  a  few  copies  of  a 
gaudily  coloured  map  some  twenty  yards  long 
and  of  doubtful  accuracy,  and  the  creation  of  a 
theoretical  "  frontier  zone "  which  one  of  the 
parties  at  least  made  poor  pretence  of  respecting. 

There  is  nothing  in  particular  to  record  besides 
a   succession   of  unedifying   disputes   until   1906, 


14  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

when  Persia's  internal  troubles  became  acute,  and 
provided  her  neighbour  with  precisely  one  of 
those  opportunities  indicated  in  Lord  Curzon's 
words  already  quoted.  Turkey  was  quick  to 
seize  the  chance,  and  before  long  her  troops 
were  twenty  or  thirty  miles  across  the  usually 
recognised  frontier  and  deep  into  the  Persian 
provinces  of  Azerbaijan  and  Kurdistan.  These 
inroads  continued  for  several  years. 

In  the  meantime  the  Anglo-Russian  agreement 
was  concluded,  and  Russia's  sphere  of  influence 
in  North  Persia  being  now  officially  recognised, 
these  violations  of  Persian  territory  became 
matters  of  concern  to  her  as  well  as  to  the 
injured  party.  On  one  occasion  a  Turkish  force 
actually  came  into  collision  with  Russian  garri- 
son troops  in  Azerbaijan.  Things  were  made 
worse  by  the  waning  of  the  power  of  the  Persian 
Constitutional  Government,  and  by  1913  so  many 
regrettable  incidents  had  occurred  that  yet  again 
a  Turco-Persian  Commission  met  at  Constanti- 
nople. Their  sittings  were  so  barren  of  re- 
sults that  again  British  and  Russian  mediation 
was  called  in.  But  this  time  the  old  farce  was 
not  to  be  allowed  to  repeat  itself.  Both  the 
European  Powers  had  now  far  more  at  stake  : 
Russia  because  of  her  position  in  Azerbaijan,  and 
England,  among  other  reasons,  because  of  the 
concession  obtained  by  a  British  company  for  the 
monopoly  of  oil  workings  through  a  large  part  of 
Persia,  some   of  the  principal  oil-fields  discovered 


The  Frontier 


15 


up  till  then  being  situated  on  debatable  ground 
near  the  frontier  zone.  The  energy  of  the  re- 
spective Ambassadors  at  Constantinople  had  its 
result,  and  on  November  4,  1913,  a  Protocol 
was  signed  by  the  Grand  Vizier  of  Turkey  and 
the  Ambassadors  of  the  three  other  Powers 
laying  down  summarily  the  frontier  between  the 
two  Empires.  A  difficulty  sprang  up  about  the 
maps.  Not  one  copy  of  the  famous  Carte 
Identique  was  forthcoming.  The  Turkish  copy 
had,  it  appeared,  been  purloined  by  Izzet  Pasha, 
the  celebrated  secretary  of  Sultan  Abdul  Hamid, 
for  reasons  best  known  to  himself  and  his 
imperial  master.  All  the  other  copies  had  dis- 
appeared. At  length  a  battered  tin  cylinder, 
which  for  years  had  been  accumulating  dust  in 
some  corner  of  the  British  Legation  at  Teheran, 
was  opened  and  revealed  the  searched-for  map. 
The  topographical  difficulties  were  still  too  great, 
however,  to  allow  of  the  frontier  line  being 
actually  marked.  At  one  place,  for  instance, 
the  Turks  resolutely  claimed  as  their  boundary 
a  river  whose  name  appeared  on  no  map,  and 
about  whose  position — or  even  existence — no  one 
could  give  the  slightest  information.  Farther 
south,  for  a  distance  of  nearly  250  miles,  the 
country  was  so  uninhabited  and  little  known 
that  no  data  could  be  obtained  on  which  to 
base  even  a  general  description  of  the  frontier. 
The  next  step  was  to  appoint  a  Commission  of 
Delimitation,    with    the     duty     of    settling    the 


1 6  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

frontier  line  on  the  spot  wherever  it  had  been 
left  vague  and  of  demarcating  the  whole  by 
putting  up  boundary  pillars.  British  and  Russian 
Commissioners  were  to  participate  in  this,  but 
under  very  different  circumstances  to  those  of 
the  1848  Commission.  Their  position — to  borrow 
a  metaphor  from  the  "ring" — was  changed  from 
that  of  seconds  to  that  of  referees  ;  in  diplomatic 
parlance,  they  were  attached  as  "  arbitrating " 
instead  of  "mediating"  members,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  whenever  the  principals  could  not 
come  to  terms  about  any  particular  section  of 
the  line,  they  must  refer  the  difference  within 
forty-eight  hours  to  the  British  and  Russian 
members  to  arbitrate  upon.  The  effect  is  illus- 
trated strikingly  enough  by  the  fact  that  the 
1913-1914  Commission  finished  the  whole  work, 
including  a  complete  new  survey  of  the  frontier 
and  the  erection  of  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
three  pillars,  in  well  under  twelve  months,  as 
against  the  three  years  occupied  by  the  pere- 
grinations of  their  predecessors. 

The  Commission  assembled  at  Mohammerah  at 
the  end  of  the  year,  and  its  experiences  and  ad- 
ventures are  set  forth  in  the  succeeding  chapters. 

The  British  Commission^  (appointed  partly  by 

1  I  must  apologise  for  the  loose  use  of  the  word  "  Commission  "  in 
the  body  of  this  book,  meaning  sometimes  the  whole  Commission, 
sometimes  the  British  section  of  it.  The  more  correct  term  to  de- 
scribe the  latter — "  Delegation  " — does  not  come  easily  to  my  pen,  as 
"  Commission  "  was  the  word  always  used,  and  I  think  the  ambiguity, 
where  there  is  any,  is  quite  unimportant. 


The  Frontier  17 

the    Foreign    Office,    partly   by    the    Government 
of    India)    consisted    of    the    following     officers  : 
Commissioner,  Mr  A.  G.  Wratislaw,  G.B.,  G.M.G.  ; 
Deputy    Commissioner,     Gaptain    A.    T.    Wilson, 
G.M.G. ;     Chief    of    the    Survey    Party,    Lieut. - 
Colonel   C.   H.   D.   Ryder,    RE.,   D.S.O.,   CLE. 
Second  in  command,  Major  H.  M.  Cowie,   R.E. 
Officer    in    command    of  Escort,    Captain   A.    H 
Brooke,     18  th    (King    George's     Own)    Lancers 
Medical  Officer,  Captain  H.  W.  Pierpoint,  I. M.S. 
Secretary,  the  present  writer.     Later  on  Captain 
F.  L.  Dyer,  93rd  Burma  Light  Infantry,  who  was 
spending   his  leave  learning   Persian   at    Moham- 
merah  when  we  arrived,  was   attached   as  Intel- 
ligence and  Transport  Officer. 

Mr  Wratislaw,  a  Consul-General  in  the  Levant 
Consular  Service,  had  some  years  before  served 
at  Basra  as  Consul  and  later  at  Tabriz  as 
Consul-General,  so  was  already  well  acquainted 
with  the  conditions  in  the  extreme  south  and 
north  of  our  route.  Captain  Wilson,  who  is 
an  officer  in  the  Indian  Political  Service,  was 
formerly  Consul  at  Mohammerah,  and  having 
travelled  a  great  deal  in  the  wilder  parts  of 
Persia,  possessed  invaluable  experience  of  the 
Arab  and  Persian  sections  of  the  frontier.  Both 
our  Survey  officers  had  acted  on  previous  frontier 
Commissions  on  the  borders  of  India  and  China, 
besides  having  accompanied  Colonel  Younghus- 
band's  expedition  to  Lhassa,  the  stories  of 
which  famous   adventure   always   made   our   own 

B 


1 8  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

journey    seem    depressingly    tame    and    common- 
place. 

The   Kussian    Commission,  under   Monsieur  Y. 
Minorski,  corresponded  to   our    own,   but  for  the 
lack     of    a     secretary     and    the     addition    of    a 
naturalist,   a  most   enterprising  representative  of 
science,    whose    enthusiasm    remained    undamped 
by  the  truly  melancholy  series  of  disasters  which 
befell    his    collections.      Major    Aziz    Bey    of  the 
Turkish    General    Staff  represented   Turkey;    his 
deputy  was   also   an   army   officer — in   fact,  there 
was   only  one    civihan    in   their   party.      Persia's 
interests     were     upheld    by    Etela  -  ul  -  Mulk,^    a 
member  of  the  Teheran  Foreign   Office,   and  the 
non- military    character    of   the    Commission    was 
compensated   for  by  the   addition  of  the  Persian 
Director  -  General    of  Artillery,    an    up-to-date 
officer    trained    at    the    :Ecole    Polytechnique    and 
the  Berlin  Military  Academy,  who  was  attached 
as    "Military    Adviser."      Each    Commission    had 
its    own    escort   (the   Russians    having    Cossacks), 
a   doctor,  and   a   staff  of  technical  officers.      The 
latter    were    all    military    engineers    except    the 

1  Every  Persian,  as  I  need  hardly  explain,  who  has  attained  to  a 
certain  position  in  civil  or  military  life  acquires  an  honorific  and 
usually  somewhat  high-sounding  title  (which  he  often  changes  several 
times  in  a  lifetime  as  he  ascends  in  the  scale).  The  Persian  Com- 
missioner's title  may  be  rendered  in  English  "The  Brightness  of 
the  Empire."  The  Deputy  Commissioner  was  "  The  Helper  of  the 
Sultanate,"  the  Military  Adviser  "  The  Victorious  Leader,"  and  my 
fellow-scribe  "The  Beauty  of  the  Kingdom"— an  epithet  which,  I 
always  imagined,  must  have  been  meant  to  refer  to  complexion  of 
mind  rather  than  of  body. 


■^      ^a    (V 


The  Frontier  19 

Persian  contingent,  which  consisted  of  an  elderly 
and  very  devout  gentleman  of  scientific  tastes, 
who  had  been  invested  with  the  temporary  rank 
of  a  General,  and  was  fond  of  referring  to 
himself  and  his  colleagues  as  "  we  men  of  the 
sword"  (though  I  do  not  think  he  ever  girt  one 
in  his  life),  and  two  beardless  youths,  who  were 
his  pupils. 

This  is,  very  briefly,  the  story  of  a  question 
which  has  worried  Embassies  and  Foreign  Offices 
for  nearly  three  -  quarters  of  a  century.  If  its 
connection  with  our  own  country  seems  remote, 
it  is  the  more  striking  as  a  specimen  of  the  thorny 
bypaths  along  which  the  Government  of  a  great 
empire  inevitably  becomes  from  time  to  time  in- 
volved. We  who  have  had,  in  the  course  of  the 
last  century  or  so,  to  delimitate  between  twenty 
and  thirty  thousand  miles  of  our  own  frontiers, 
find  ourselves  forced  by  "  the  responsibility  of 
empire  "  to  lend  a  hand  in  settling  other  people's. 
Truly,  to  him  who  hath  shall  be  given  ! 

There  is  one  noticeable  characteristic  of  the 
Turco-Persian  frontier  which  is  due  partially  to 
the  piecemeal  and  deliberate  way  in  which  it 
has  been  created.  It  supplies  instances  of  practi- 
cally every  principle  of  delimitation  known  to  the 
science.  A  frontier  may  be  geographical,  racial, 
linguistic,  religious,  or  even  purely  artificial.  That 
in  question  is  all  of  these.  In  the  broadest  sense 
it  is  geographical,   for   it  follows  in   the   main   a 


20  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

great  mountain  range.  It  is  racial,  in  the  south 
particularly,  where  it  separates  Iranian  from 
Semitic,  or,  to  be  more  specific,  Lur  from  Arab  ; 
farther  north,  in  Kurdistan,  the  division  is,  more 
correctly  speaking,  tribal.  In  the  Pusht-i-Kuh 
region  it  is  roughly  speaking  linguistic — smooth 
Persian  dialect  greeting  your  ear  one  side,  and 
guttural  Arabic  on  the  other.  Among  the  Kurds 
again  the  religious  factor  comes  in,  where  an  attempt 
has  been  made  to  leave  Sunnis  in  Turkey  and  Shias 
in  Persia.  Finally,  there  is  a  stretch  in  the  south 
where  the  frontier  is  frankly  artificial,  following 
stated  lines  of  longitude  and  latitude. 

Of  physical  features  there  is  hardly  one  com- 
monly used  in  frontier-making  which  we  did  not, 
at  some  time  or  other,  apply  :  along  the  Shatt-el- 
Arab,  "the  line  of  low  tide";  in  the  case  of 
other  rivers,  one  or  other  bank,  or  oftener  still  the 
'' medium  Jilum  aquae'';  in  mountainous  regions 
*'  the  crest  line  "  or  "  the  watershed  "  (by  no  means 
synonymous  terms),  or  else  that  much  -  disputed 
phrase  "  the  foot  of  the  hills."  A  certain 
section  of  the  frontier  was,  as  I  have  already  said, 
fixed  according  to  the  "  astronomical  method " 
adopted  so  generally  in  Africa  and  North  America, 
while  at  another  point — where  it  was  a  question 
of  creating  an  enclave  round  certain  oil-springs — 
the  line  was  drawn  so  as  to  describe  an  arc  of 
circle.  Strategic  considerations  came  in  here 
and  there,  as  they  do  in  the  case  of  almost  any 
mountain  frontier,  where  the  possession  of  a  cer- 


The  Frontier  21 

tain  pass  may  be  worth  an  army  corps  to  either 
side. 

To  conclude  this  brief  survey  of  the  frontier,  I 
must  say  a  word  or  two  as  to  how  the  Commis- 
sion worked.  About  three-quarters  of  the  frontier 
had  been,  as  I  explained  before,  delimitated  at 
Constantinople,  the  remaining  quarter  being  left 
blank.  In  the  case  of  the  former  part  the  Am- 
bassadors had,  so  to  speak,  sketched  the  main 
outline,  leaving  the  Commission  to  fill  in  the 
detail.  A  section  of  frontier  would  be  described 
in  the  Protocol  as  following  the  crest  of  a  certain 
mountain,  for  instance,  and  passing  thence  to  a 
neighbouring  peak,  leaving  such  and  such  a  village 
to  Turkey  or  Persia  as  the  case  might  be.  The 
line  being  thus  broadly  indicated,  the  engineers 
went  ahead,  surveyed  a  strip  of  country  eight  or 
ten  miles  wide,  and  had  a  detailed  map  waiting 
for  the  Commissioners  by  the  time  they  arrived. 
The  latter  then,  after  examining  the  map  and  the 
ground,  met  in  solemn  conclave  and  debated  the 
precise  line  of  the  frontier,  which  when  agreed 
upon  was  described  in  writing,  marked  on  the  map 
with  red  ink,  and  on  the  ground  with  a  line  of 
boundary  pillars.  Along  the  undelimitated  part 
the  matter  was,  of  course,  less  simple.  The  only 
basis  for  the  Commissioners'  guidance  was  the 
status  quo  frontier  of  1848 — a  very  illusive  ghost, 
as  one  may  well  imagine.  The  rival  claims  in  this 
region  were  often  as  much  as  twenty  miles  apart, 
and  a  compromise   was  next    door    to  impossible, 


22  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

so  that  In  the  end  ahnost  the  whole  of  this  section 
was  settled  by  Russo  -  British  arbitration.  A 
dilemma  used  to  arise  when  the  frontier  ahead 
was  quite  undetermined,  which  reminded  one  of 
the  ancient  conundrum  as  to  which  came  first, 
the  hen  or  the  egg.  The  problem  was,  how  you 
were  to  settle  a  given  stretch  of  frontier  before 
you  had  travelled  along  it,  and  how  you  could 
travel  along  it  if  you  did  not  know  where  it 
went. 

The  outward  and  visible  signs  of  our  labours 
were,  of  course,  the  boundary  pillars.  Their  com- 
position depended,  inevitably,  on  the  nature  of  the 
surrounding  country.  While  we  were  in  the  desert, 
where  the  only  available  material  was  mud,  we 
built  thereof  imposing  pyramids,  destined,  no  doubt, 
to  provide  the  archaeologists  of  some  future  age 
with  subjects  for  excavation  and  learned  dispute. 
In  the  mountains,  if  the  spot  was  accessible  for 
a  mule  loaded  with  mortar,  a  rough  pillar  of 
masonry  marked  the  boundary  line.  To  erect 
these  we  had  taken  with  us  a  staff  of  soi-disant 
masons,  and  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  stone  pillar 
we  formed  a  respectful  circle  round  these  crafts- 
men while  they  plied  their  trade.  Having  col- 
lected a  great  quantity  of  rocks  they  marked  a 
circle  on  the  ground  and  set  to  work  fromx  within 
to  build  a  wall — the  only  application  of  their  art, 
I  suppose,  with  which  they  were  acquainted.  Such 
was  their  enthusiasm,  that  before  long  they  had 
completely  immured  themselves,  and  a  hole  had 


The  Frontier  23 

to  be  knocked  in  the  side  of  their  self-made  tomb 
to  let  them  out.  The  product  of  their  technique 
was  magnificent,  but  it  was  not  a  boundary  pillar, 
so  we  decided  to  rely  henceforth  on  the  light  of 
nature.  Sometimes  the  approach  to  a  site  was  so 
precipitous  that  no  four-footed  beast  could  be  got 
up,  and  on  these  occasions  a  large  cairn  of  boulders 
had  to  suffice.  In  places  the  piety  of  the  in- 
habitants saved  us  two  or  three  hours'  hard  labour 
when  the  summit  of  the  mountain  was  already 
crowned  by  a  nazargah,  one  of  those  heaps  of 
stones  so  common  throughout  the  country,  which, 
to  quote  Fraser's  '  Kurdistan,'  mark  "  where  some 
local  saint  performed  a  miracle,  or,  perhaps,  ate  his 
breakfast."  As  it  is  the  duty  of  every  passing 
Moslem  to  add  a  stone  to  the  pile,  the  saint's 
memory  and  the  boundary  mark  are  alike  safe 
from  extinction.  This,  alas,  is  more  than  can  be 
claimed  for  most  of  our  pillars.  No  token  of  gov- 
ernment is  popular  with  the  Kurds,  and  we  should 
have  known — even  if  the  candid  blackguards  had 
not  occasionally  thought  fit  to  tell  us  so — that  our 
carefully  built  monuments  were  lucky  if  they  stood 
for  a  day  once  the  back  of  authority  had  been 
turned.  Their  demolition,  however,  did  little  harm 
to  anything  except  our  amour  propre,  as  the 
precise  bearings  of  each  were,  of  course,  carefully 
recorded  and  its  position  marked  on  the  map. 

There  are,  lastly,  a  good  many  side  issues  which 
a  Boundary  Commission  has  to  deal  with  besides 
the  actual  demarcation  of  the  frontier.     To  give 


24  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

examples,  there  were  in  our  case  anchorage  rights 
in  the  Shatt-el-Arab,  water  rights  in  places  where 
the  frontier  intersected  streams  or  irrigation  canals, 
and,  most  important  of  all,  the  pasturage  rights  of 
the  wandering  tribes  whose  annual  migrations  take 
them  from  side  to  side  of  the  border.  Such  were 
some  of  the  divers  problems  which  occupied  and 
sometimes  perplexed  the  Commissioners,  and  whose 
solution  depended  in  a  great  degree  on  the  con- 
ciliatory genius  of  the  British  and  Russian  mem- 
bers— reinforced,  when  occasion  required,  by  that 
most  powerful  solvent  of  human  diiferences  which 
hails  from  the  shell-riddled  slopes  of  Champagne. 
But  having  now  introduced,  perhaps  at  all  too 
great  a  length,  the  Frontier  itself,  it  is  high  time 
to  begin  the  account  of  our  acquaintance  with  it. 


25 


CHAPTER    11. 

MARSEILLES    TO    MOHAMMERAH. 

I  HAVE  sometimes  wondered  what  would  be  the 
result  if  you  took  the  five  hundred  odd  human 
beings  who  go  to  make  up  the  passenger-list  of 
a  crowded  P.  &;  O.,  and  boxed  them  up  07i  dry 
land  under  just  the  same  conditions  as  they  live 
under  on  board  ship.  If  no  actual  murder  had 
been  committed  by  the  time  you  came  to  let  them 
out  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight,  at  least  I  doubt  if 
you  would  find  a  single  one  of  the  five  hundred  on 
speaking  terms  with  the  other  four  hundred  and 
ninety-nine.  There  must  be  some  magic  about  a 
sea-voyage  which  keeps  most  people,  in  spite  of 
the  monotony,  on  such  excellent  terms  with  them- 
selves, each  other,  and  all  the  world  besides ;  but 
what  the  magic  is  I  cannot  guess,  unless  it  be  the 
pleasant  anticipation  of  something  awaiting  them 
at  the  journey's  end.  In  which  case,  our  own 
prospect  of  a  year  or  more  under  canvas  and  a 
thousand -mile  march  from  the  Persian  Gulf  to 
Mount  Ararat  should  have  assured  us  a  particu- 


26  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

larly  agreeable  voyage  when  we  sailed  from  Mar- 
seilles for  Mohammerah  on  November  21,  1913. 

The  voyage,  as  things  turned  out,  was  extremely 
pleasant,  but  being  "uneventful,"  as  voyages  usually 
are  (which  is  to  say,  that  we  ran  into  nothing  and 
no  one  fell  overboard),  I  will  not  burden  the  reader 
with  a  detailed  narrative  of  our  three  weeks  at  sea. 
In  case  he  should,  however,  contemplate  a  similar 
trip  to  the  Gulf  at  some  future  date,  I  venture  to 
give  a  brief  outline  of  the  voyage  with  the  help  of 
a  few  extracts  from  my  traveller's  diary. 

Ss.  Mooltan,  Port  Said,  Nov.  25. —  Calm  sea  all 
the  way  from  Marseilles.  Flag-ship  of  Admiral 
Troubridge,  Commanding  the  Mediterranean  Squad- 
ron, in  port  here.  We  have  taken  on  board  the 
Christmas  mails  for  Australia, — a  record  number 
of  mail-bags,  so  they  say. 

Aden,  Dec.  1. — Eeached  Aden  last  night  and 
transhipped  on  to  ss.  Scdsette,  the  Bombay  "  ferry- 
boat." Seeing  the  place  for  the  first  time  at 
night,  one's  only  impression  is  of  a  black  mass  of 
hill  rising  from  the  water's  edge,  with,  solitary 
lights  twinkling  on  the  slope  and  a  row  of  bright 
illumination  along  the  shore.  One  might  be  look- 
ing at  the  wooded  slopes  of  St  Cloud,  with  its 
brightly  lit  cafes  lining  the  bank  of  the  Seine. 
Reality,  as  seen  by  daylight  this  morning,  very 
different.  Nothing  but  the  deadest,  barrenest 
rocks  and  fort-like  houses.  We  watched  through 
the  glasses  strings  of  bizarre-looking,  two-wheeled 


Marseilles  to  Mohammerah 


7 


camel-carts,  which  seem  to  supply  the  local  means 
of  transport. 

Ss.  Dwarka,  Dec.  5. — Left  Bombay  harbour  this 
afternoon  barely  an  hour  after  entering  it  on  the 
P.  &  0.  So  much  for  my  hopes  of  setting  foot  in 
India !  It  is  fortunately  only  a  thirty-hour  run  to 
Karachi,  as  the  regular  B.  I.  boat  is  laid  up  and 
the  Dwarha  is  disgustingly  small  for  what  is  often 
a  rough  passage. 

Ss,  Kola,  Dec.  7.— Reached  Karachi  at  midnight, 
changed  steamers,  and  left  again  before  sunrise. 
The  skipper  speaks  cheeringly  of  the  "  Shimal"  we 
are  sure  to  meet  in  the  Gulf,  and  this  boat  turns 
out  to  be  even  smaller  than  our  last.  Eeally,  this 
journey  is  like  the  "Hake's  Progress" — we  go  one 
lower  at  each  stage.  Some  of  the  other  members  of 
our  Commission — Colonel  Ryder  and  Major  Cowie, 
our  Engineer  officers,  with  their  Survey  Party  of 
about  forty-five  Indians,  and  Captain  Pierpoint  of 
the  Indian  Medical  Service — were  on  board  when 
we  joined.  Captain  Pierpoint  has  a  handsome 
setter-bitch  and  her  puppy,  who  are  to  come  with 
us  on  the  Expedition. 

Mushat,  Dec.  8. — There  is  small -pox  in  the 
town,  which  prevents  our  landing.  Nothing  could 
be  more  picturesque,  however,  than  the  view  from 
the  bay.  We  approached  past  clusters  of  white 
pinnacle-rocks  rising  abruptly  out  of  a  deep  blue 
sea,  swung  suddenly  round  a  point,  and  came  to 
anchor  in  a  little  natural  harbour  with  rocky  cliffs 
frowning  down   on   it   from  both   sides.      At   the 


28  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

farther  end  two  rocks  crowned  by  the  ruins  of 
Portuguese  forts  stand  sentry  on  either  side,  and 
between  them  Hes  all  you  can  see  of  Muskat — a 
sea-front  of  a  dozen  or  so  white  houses  built  on  a 
rocky  base  washed  by  the  sea.  There  is  a  small 
coaling-station  in  one  corner  of  the  bay,  and  a  fleet 
of  high-prowed  fishing-boats  painted  in  stripes  of 
white,  yellow,  and  green  is  anchored  in  front  of  it. 
The  face  of  the  cliff  on  the  opposite  side  is  almost 
covered  with  the  names,  in  huge  letters  of  white 
paint,  of  all  the  British  men-of-war  which  have 
patrolled  the  Gulf  for  generations  past.  Remains 
of  Portuguese  towers  and  bastions  are  visible  all 
round,  and  we  just  get  a  glimpse  between  the 
mountains  of  the  hinterland,  where  a  force  of 
troops  from  India  is  stationed  at  present  to  pro- 
tect Muskat  from  tribal  attacks,  the  interior  being 
in  a  state  of  anarchy. 

There  is  only  one  other  ship  in  the  harbour,  an 
ex- tramp,  which  represents  the  Muskat  navy,  and 
is  chiefly  used,  we  are  told,  for  taking  the  Sultan's 
wives  on  visits  to  Zanzibar,  the  two  Sultans  being 
cousins  and  on  very  friendly  terms. 

Dec.  9. — The  promised  "  Shimal"  came.  We 
were  barely  through  the  Straits  of  Ormuz  and 
fairly  into  the  Gulf  when  we  ran  into  such  a  thick, 
black  squall  that  the  Captain  turned  the  ship 
round  for  fear  of  running  on  to  a  reef.  The  worst 
of  it  was  soon  over  and  we  were  able  to  go  ahead 
again.  We  have  just  stopped  off  a  small  island,  a 
mere  rock,  where  H.M.S.  Harold  is  lying,  to  drop 
an  enmneer  of  Indian  Marine  whom  we  had  on 


Marseilles  to  Mohammerah  29 

board.  The  Harold  is  typical  of  what  our  naval 
men  have  to  put  up  with  in  the  Gulf;  she  is 
nothing  more  than  a  Liverpool  tug,  with  no 
accommodation  but  the  deck,  and  spends  her  time 
cruising  about  these  tropical  seas  after  gun- 
runners. She  carries  two  officers  and  a  terrier-pup ; 
the  latter,  not  having  seen  one  of  his  own  species 
for  months,  went  quite  off  his  head  at  the  sight  of 
Sheila  and  Mick,  the  doctor's  dogs,  and  tore  madly 
up  and  down  the  top  of  the  deck-awning  barking 
himself  hoarse. 

Bushire,  Dec,  10. — It  seems  that  we  are  officially 
designated  the  "fast  mail."  This  is  not,  as  I  at 
first  supposed,  a  humorous  allusion  to  our  speed, 
which  is  a  steady  nine  knots,  but  implies  that  our 
only  ports-of-call  in  the  Gulf  are  Muskat  and 
Bushire.  We  are  lying  here  in  the  roads  four  or 
five  miles  out  from  the  town,  and  the  cargo  has  to 
be  lightered  ashore.  We  put  out  several  cases  of 
whisky,  which  were  loaded  into  special,  so-called 
haram  boats,  as  the  ordinary  lightermen  are 
too  good  Moslems  to  have  any  truck  with  the 
forbidden  liquid.  The  haram  boats,  it  seems,  are 
manned  by  crews  of  hardened  agnostics,  who,  so 
far  from  refusing  to  handle  the  cases,  are  seldom 
known  to  deliver  the  same  intact. 

Talking  to  one  of  the  ship's  officers  about 
cargoes  for  the  Gulf,  I  have  learnt  two  interesting 
facts, — one  that  there  is  a  lively  trade  in  Per- 
sian carpets  from  Manchester  to  Bushire  (Persia's 
greatest  port),  and  the  other  that  the  boats  which 
visit   Bahrein  —  where   the    great   pearl-fisheries 


30  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

are  —  often  carry  consignments  of  sham  pearls 
for  judicious  admixture  with  the  real  ones  at 
the  fountain  -  head,  —  at  least  so  my  informant 
assured  me  ! 

In  the  Sliatt-el-Arab,  Dec.  11. — We  dropped 
Major  Cowie  at  Bushire,  whence  he  will  exchange 
signals  with  Fao  by  cable  in  order  to  fix  its  lati- 
tude and  longitude,  and  so  give  a  starting-off  point 
for  the  survey  work  of  the  Commission.  Bushire 
itself  is  a  "  fixed  point " — i.e.,  it  has  been  connected 
up  with  the  survey  system  of  India. 

We  reached  the  bar  at  the  mouth  of  the  Shatt-el- 
Arab  early  this  morning,  and,  as  usually  happens, 
stuck.  The  most  vigorous  churning  served  only  to 
cloud  the  sea  all  round  with  mud,  so  we  had  to 
wait  till  the  tide  rose  and  lifted  the  boat  over. 
Just  after  entering  the  river's  mouth  we  passed 
Fao  on  the  right  (Turkish)  bank.  Its  only  claim 
to  notice  is  the  Indo-European  Telegraph  Station, 
whence  the  cable  crosses  to  Bushire  on  its  way  to 
India.  ^ 

The  Shatt,  of  course,  is  a  great,  broad  river, 
containing,  as  it  does,  the  united  waters  of  the 
Euphrates,  the  Tigris,  and  the  Karun  between  its 
banks ;  but  the  palm  groves  on  either  side  cut  off 
from  view  most  of  the  country  beyond,  and  what 
there  is  to  see  of  it  is  mostly  dismal- looking 
swamp.  It  is  a  lifeless  scene,  and  the  only  moving 
thino-s  in  it  are  the  occasional  flocks  of  wild-fowl 

o 

1  Fao  was  the  scene  of  the  first  engagement  by  the  Persian  Gulf 
Expeditionary  Force  in  the  present  war. 


Marseilles  to  Mohammerah  31 

which  rise  in  front  of  our  bows  and  wing  their  way 
up-stream,  and  a  few  naked  riverain  Arabs  up  to 
their  waists  in  water  cutting  reeds,  which  they 
use  for  fish-traps.  The  banks  are  lined  with  these 
traps,  which  consist  of  narrow-mouthed  enclosures 
so  designed  as  to  let  the  fish  enter  easily  at  high 
tide,  but  to  give  them  no  way  of  escape  when  the 
water  falls  again. 

Some  miles  farther  up — this  time  on  the  Persian 
bank — one  rounds  a  corner  and  comes  on  a  most 
incongruous  sight.     Rows  upon  rows  of  huge  oil- 
reservoirs,  of  the  same  familiar  shape  as  the  great 
drums   at  a    gas-works,   stretch   into  the  desert; 
along  the  bank  in  front  stand  bungalows,  power- 
houses, and  retorts  for  refining  the  oil,  the  whole 
linked  together   by   a    network    of  light   railway 
along  which  little  engines  run  clanking  and  shriek- 
ing.    This  turns  out  to  be  the  Anglo-Persian  Oil 
Company's  refinery,  the  big  enterprise  which,  like 
the  Suez  Canal,  has  the  British  Government  as  its 
principal  shareholder.     The  oil-fields  are  150  miles 
away,    near   Ahwaz    on    the   river  Karun  —  from 
there  the  oil  comes  down  in  a  pipe  laid  across  the 
desert.      In   its  refined    state    it    is   pumped   into 
barges  which  lie   alongside   the  bank — which,  in 
turn,   empty  it   into  big   tank -steamers   anchored 
outside  the  bar. 

Later. — We  have  arrived  at  Mohammerah,  but 
have  to  put  in  several  hours'  quarantine  before  we 
are  allowed  on  shore.  It  is  a  fine  site  for  a  town. 
The  Karun  runs  at  an  almost  perfect  right  angle  into 


32  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

the  Shatt,  and  the  town  lies  along  its  northern 
bank  near  the  junction,  the  Union  Jack  over  the 
British  Consulate  being  nearly  at  the  point.  The 
Karun  here  must  be  nearly  as  broad  as  the 
Thames  at  London,  and  is  a  fine  fast-flowing  river  ; 
its  w^aters  are  bright  yellow,  and  make  tremendous 
whirlpools  and  eddies  where  they  join  the  Shatt, 
so  strong  as  to  swing  the  bows  of  even  an  ocean- 
going steamer  like  our  own — while  it  is  a  regular 
death-trap  for  small  craft. 

During  the  preliminary  negotiations  at  Con- 
stantinople, Mohammerah  had  been  fixed  upon  as 
the  place  of  rendezvous  of  the  four  Commissions, 
and  the  date  of  meeting  had  been  settled  for  the 
middle  of  December.  We  were  the  first  to  arrive, 
follow^ed  a  few  days  later  by  the  Russians,  who 
travelled  direct  from  Constantinople  on  board  a 
Russian  ship. 

Our  Turkish  and  Persian  colleagues,  however, 
entertained  characteristically  liberal  views  on  the 
subject  of  dates  and  time-tables,  and  nearly  a 
month  passed  before  they  appeared ;  though  it 
must  be  conceded  that  the  difiiculties  of  their 
overland  routes  from  Constantinople  and  Teheran 
respectively  gave  some  excuse  for  the  delay.  It 
thus  came  about  that  we  spent  in  all  six  weeks  in 
camp  at  Mohammerah,  and  had  ample  time  to  fit 
out  the  expedition  and  see  something  of  the 
neighbourhood. 

Before  it  emerged  from  its  obscurity  into  the 


P^M 


teii 


■gCT^ , 


Basra  Creek. 


<f 

M 

i^^M 

kd 

#  ...^ 

t0^k 

E^gsk  .... 

m 

M^. 

tI 

■ 

l^i>:V^ 


'm^f'^:r  a 


Basra  Creek. 


Marseilles  to  Mohammerah  33 

grim  lime-light  of  war,  the  country  at  the  head 
of  the  Persian  Gulf  was,  I  imagine,  to  the  aver- 
age person  little  better  than  terra  incognita — a 
region  only  vaguely  apprehended  in  connection 
with  dates,  oil-fuel  for  the  Navy,  or  the  Garden  of 
Eden.  Possibly  I  wrong  the  country  —  or  the 
"average  person" — but  the  vivid  recollection  of 
my  own  furtive  and  shamefaced  hunt  for  an 
atlas  when  I  first  got  orders  to  go  to  Mohammerah, 
encourages  me  to  enter  on  a  brief  description  at 
the  risk  of  repeating  well-known  facts. 

In  the  first  place,  all  Mesopotamia  is  Arab 
country.  The  neat  line  which  provides  a  northern 
limit  to  Arabia  on  many  of  our  maps  has  no  basis 
in  fact,  and  even  the  frontier  between  the  Turkish 
and  Persian  Empires,  in  this  particular  section, 
marks  no  ethnical  or  linguistic  boundary.  Indeed, 
the  proportion  of  racial  Turks  in  Irak  and  of  racial 
Persians  in  Arabistan  is  almost  negligible,  and  the 
spoken  language  is  Arabic  throughout. 

Compared  with  the  real  Bedouin  of  the  Arabian 
desert,  the  Arabs  in  the  parts  I  am  speaking  of  are 
a  degenerate  lot ;  they  are  largely  agriculturists, 
and  many  of  them  live  in  towns  like  Basra  and 
Mohammerah.  They  are  divided  into  several  large 
tribes — the  Muntefik,  the  Shaab^  the  Beni  Lam, 
Beni  Turuf,  and  so  on — and,  with  the  exception  of 
some  of  the  riverain  Arabs,  are  more  or  less 
nomadic,  often  sowing  a  patch  of  land  with  some 
crop  or  other  and  leaving  it  to  grow  till  they 
return  again  after  some  months  to  reap  it.     The 

c 


34  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

same  spirit  is  reflected  in  their  domestic  architec- 
ture, which  takes  the  form  of  reed  and  palm-leaf 
huts,  which  can  be  put  up  in  a  few  hours  and 
abandoned  without  regret. 

These  Arabs  have  a  good  many  unamiable  traits, 
not  the  least  of  which  is  their  love  of  piracy.  As 
long  ago  as  1780  (the  letter  exists  in  the  archives 
of  the  Bushire  Residency)  the  Factor  of  the  East 
India  Company  at  Basra  wrote  to  his  superiors  at 
Bombay  praying  them  to  despatch  a  sloop  to  the 
Shatt-el-Arab  to  protect  his  cargoes  lying  in  the 
river.  The  precaution  is  necessary  even  now,  and 
previous  to  the  war  a  gunboat  was  sent  annually 
up  the  river  at  the  season  when  the  dates  are 
being  shipped,  to  protect  the  boats  from  pirates. 
These  river  vermin  practise  their  trade  in  its  most 
dastardly  form,  creeping  on  board  ships  at  night 
and  murdering  the  crew.  Even  during  our  short 
stay  a  British  captain  at  Basra  sleeping  on  board 
his  vessel  was  killed  in  this  atrocious  way,  the 
villains  escaping  arrest. 

This  immunity  which  the  pirates  generally  enjoy 
is  due  to  the  ease  with  which  after  an  exploit  in 
Turkish  waters  they  can  escape  to  the  Persian 
shore,  or  vice  versa.  Some  years  ago  the  British 
India  mail-boat  ran  aground  and  a  gang  of  pirates 
boarded  and  gutted  her.  They  escaped,  as  usual, 
on  to  Persian  territory,  but  this  time,  thanks  to 
the  energetic  help  of  the  Sheikh  of  Mohammerah, 
they  were  caught  and  brought  to  book  and  a  large 


Arab  Reed  Huts. 


The  Ashe 


Marseilles  to  Mohammerah  35 

part  of  the  cargo  recovered.  As  a  graceful  tribute 
to  commemorate  the  event,  the  B.I.  steamers 
always  fired  a  one-gun  salute  as  they  pass  the 
Sheikh's  palace  on  their  way  up  the  river.  The 
salute  was  returned  from  the  Sheikh's  battery  on 
shore — not  without  some  risk  to  the  unfortunate 
gunner  who  used  occasionally,  when  a  certain  young 
Third  Officer  fired  the  ship's  gun,  to  get  a  charge 
of  deck  cricket  balls  whizzing  round  his  ears. 

The  main  features  of  the  country  can  be  summed 
up  in  three  words — river,  desert,  and  marsh,  the 
river  beino^,  of  course,  the  essential  feature.  The 
"Waters  of  Babylon,"  which  once  made  Meso- 
potamia a  rival  with  Egypt  for  the  title  of  the 
"World's  granary,"  still  keep  their  fertilising 
powers  intact.  But  the  old  dams,  canals,  and 
barrages  are  gone,  and  the  productive  land  is  now 
narrowed  down  to  strips  of  palm  grove  fringing 
the  river  banks.  Where  the  palm  groves  end  the 
desert  abruptly  begins.     There  is  nowhere  that 

"  Strip  of  herbage  strown. 
That  just  divides  the  desert  from  the  sown," 

where  old  Khayyam  invites  us  to  wander  in  bliss- 
ful oblivion. 

The  desert  itself  is  not  of  the  good  honest  sand 
that  one  usually  associates  with  the  name.  In  the 
south  at  least,  where  it  was  once  part  of  the  delta, 
it  is  rich  alluvial  soil,  good  going  for  man  and 
beast  when  dry  but  turning  to  the  veriest  quagmire 


36  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

of  mud  after  rain  or  floods.  The  marshes  have  a 
character  of  their  own,  but  I  will  speak  of  them 
again  later. 

The  site  of  the  Garden  of  Eden  is  located  at 
Kurna,  where  the  Euphrates  and  Tigris  join — or 
so  the  school  of  pre-Darwinian  theologists  would 
have  us  believe.  The  crab- apples  which  grow 
to-day  by  the  river's  edge  do  indeed  lend  colour  to 
the  theory,  but — unless  conditions  have  radically 
changed — there  is  one,  I  fear,  insuperable  objection. 
Our  erring  ancestor's  chief  lament  when  ejected 
from  Paradise  was  that  he  had  to  turn  to  and 
work.  Now,  in  this  country,  nobody  works — at 
least  not  what  you  can  call  work.  Nature,  by  a 
bountiful  provision,  which  says  little  for  the  good 
dame's  powers  of  discrimination,  absolves  the 
inhabitants  from  all  such  necessity.  The  high 
tides  at  the  head  of  the  Gulf  so  bank  up  the  Shatt 
as  far  as  the  junction  of  the  rivers,  that  all  the  lazy 
Arab  has  to  do  is  to  cut  a  few  canals  and  ditches 
and  let  the  rise  and  fall  water  his  land  automati- 
cally twice  a  day.  The  date-palms,  too,  demand  a 
minimum  of  labour,  and  in  return  for  it  provide 
him  generously  with  food,  fuel,  and  building 
material.  I  should  doubt  if  there  is  another  place 
in  the  world  where  the  people  do  so  little  for  their 
living,  except  perhaps  the  South  Sea  Islands. 

Dates  are  exported  to  Europe  in  enormous 
quantities  every  autumn,  and  the  export  trade  is 
chiefly  in  the  hands  of  British  firms  established  at 
Basra.      Basra  itself  is  not  actually  on  the  river, 


Marseilles  to  Mohammerah  37 

but  lies  about  two  miles  inland,  in  a  big  clearing 
among  the  palms,  and  is  a  rather  mean  and  dilapi- 
dated town — unless  eighteen  months  of  British 
administration  has  instilled  into  it  a  greater 
degree  of  self-respect.  A  fair-sized  creek  connects 
it  with  the  Ashar,  which  is  the  port  for  the  smaller 
vessels,  but  the  big  ships  lie  anchored  in  mid- 
stream opposite  a  long  line  of  substantial  brick 
buildings  where  the  European  merchants  live  and 
do  their  business. 

It  was  from  Basra  that  Sinbad  the  Sailor  used  to 
start  on  his  voyages  of  adventure.  At  the  time 
when  his  fabulous  journeys  were  supposed  to  have 
taken  place,  Bagdad  was  at  the  height  of  its  glory. 
The  court  of  the  Caliph,  Haroun-er-Bashid,  at- 
tracted thither  all  the  riches  and  wits  of  the 
Mohommedan  East,  and  the  Caliph  lived  in  a 
state  of  lavish  splendour  which  has  seldom  been 
surpassed.  One  can  dimly  picture  the  scene  at  the 
port  of  Basra  when  a  fleet  of  dhows  sailed  up 
from  the  Gulf  laden  with  the  slaves  and  pearls 
and  spices  which  honest  Sinbad  describes  with 
such  relish.  In  these  prosaic  days,  alas  !  you  find 
instead  a  line  of  rusty  sea-tramps  full  of  Manchester 
cottons  and  iron-ware  lying  in  the  anchorage.  At 
the  Ashar  itself,  however,  there  are  plenty  of 
dhows  to  be  seen,  with  their  graceful,  tapering 
masts  and  towering  poops,  painted  often  with  gay 
designs  in  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow. 

Thanks  to  the  war,  Basra  has  become  a  familiar 
name  in  our  newspapers,  while  Mohammerah,  lying 


38  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

on  the  other  shore,  has  received  at  most  a  passing 
mention.  But  our  connections  with  the  Persian 
town  have  grown  so  much  of  late,  and  its  progress 
promises  to  interest  us  so  closely  in  the  future, 
that,  if  the  reader's  patience  can  hold  out  a  little 
longer,  I  should  like  to  give  one  or  two  historical 
and  geographical  facts  about  it.  Mohammerah  also 
has  been  entered  and  occupied  by  a  force  of  British 
troops — but  some  time  ago  ;  to  be  precise,  in  1856. 
The  occasion  was  the  Persian  war.  That  little- 
sung  campaign  fills  very  few  pages  in  our  military 
annals,  and  was  remarkable  chiefly  for  the  almost 
complete  lack  of  resistance  on  the  enemy's  part  and 
the  very  short  time  it  lasted.  Persia  had  attempted 
to  seize  Herat,  which  we  countered  by  despatching 
a  force  up  the  Gulf,  bombarding  Mohammerah,  and 
sending  a  regiment — the  Seaforth  Highlanders — 
up  the  Karun  to  capture  the  town  of  Ahwaz.  The 
whole  affair  only  lasted  a  little  over  four  months, 
and  now  a  few  bits  of  shell  ploughed  up  from  time 
to  time  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town  and  some 
gashes  in  the  trunks  of  the  older  palm-trees  are 
almost  the  only  records  of  it  left. 

The  importance  of  the  place  from  our  point  of 
view  is  partly  due  to  the  creation  of  the  Oil  Com- 
pany, who  have  their  headquarters  and  a  large 
English  staff  at  Mohammerah,  and  partly  to  its 
position  at  the  junction  of  two  large  navigable 
rivers.  Persia  is  so  cut  off  by  mountain-barriers 
from  its  neighbours  that  the  trade-routes  to  the 
interior   are   exceedingly  limited.      There    are,   of 


Marseilles  to  Mohammerah  39 

course,  the  Gulf  ports,  such  as  Bushire  and  Bunder 
Abbas,  feeding  parts  of  Central  and  Southern 
Persia,  and  in  the  north  there  are  the  Caspian 
ports  and  the  Russian  railway  to  Julfa,  but 
throughout  the  1200  miles  of  land  frontier  which 
separate  the  borders  of  Russia  from  the  Gulf  only- 
two  routes  of  any  importance  exist.  One  is  the 
road  from  Bagdad  to  Kermanshah,  which  is  closed 
as  often  as  not  by  the  turbulence  and  brigandage 
of  the  tribes ;  the  other  is  from  Mohammerah  up 
the  Karun.  Merchandise  is  transhipped  at  Moham- 
merah from  the  ocean  -  going  steamers  into  anti- 
quated stern-wheelers,  carried  up  as  far  as  Ahwaz, 
and  thence  distributed  ;  but  a  scheme  was  on  foot 
before  the  war  for  constructing  a  railway  from 
Ahwaz  to  Khurremebad,  which  would  enormously 
increase  the  importance  of  the  route.  A  prelim- 
inary survey  was  made,  and  a  party  of  British 
engineers  went  out  to  the  spot  in  1913 ;  the 
rapacity  of  the  tribesmen  on  whose  goodwill  the 
work  depended  was  so  bottomless,  however,  that 
the  scheme  was  still  held  up  when  the  war  began. 
The  Sheikh  of  Mohammerah,  Sheikh  Khazal, 
K.C.S.I.,  K.O.I.E.,  has  always  been  a  loyal  friend 
of  the  British,  and  his  friendship  has  now  stood 
the  severe  test  of  the  war  in  Mesopotamia  and  the 
revolt  of  a  large  part  of  his  subjects.  He  is  a 
middle-aged  Arab  of  liberal  tendencies,  though  far 
too  cautious  to  introduce  any  wholesale,  ready- 
made  projects  of  "  civilisation  "  within  his  domain. 
Proofress  has  to  be  a  grradual  affair  in  Mohammerah. 


40  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

His  authority  extends  over  the  two  tribes  of  the 
Shaab  and  the  Muhaisin,  which  have  to  a  great 
extent  coalesced  under  their  common  ruler.  These 
tribes  are  supposed  to  have  immigrated  from 
Arabia  some  250  years  ago  and  settled  in  Persian 
territory.  Thanks  to  their  remoteness  from  the 
centre  of  government,  their  difference  of  language 
and  race,  and  the  incessant  rivalry  between  Turkey 
and  Persia,  they  have  remained  very  independent 
of  the  Shah  and  his  Government,  and  the  pres- 
ent Sheikh,  having  steered  adroitly  through  the 
troublous  waters  of  the  Revolution,  is  now  sove- 
reign in  all  but  name  over  the  greater  part  of  the 
province  of  Arabistan,  a  country  nearly  as  big  as 
Belgium.  He  levies  his  own  taxes  and  makes  his 
own  laws,  and  the  Imperial  Government  has  only 
a  shadowy  representative  in  the  person  of  the 
Karguzar,  or  Foreign  Office  Agent.  The  Sheikh's 
prerogative  does  not,  however,  extend  to  the 
Customs,  though  even  here  he  is  ex  officio  Director- 
General. 

One  other  token  of  the  Shah's  authority  I  had 
all  but  forgotten  —  the  Persian  Navy.  It  lies 
anchored  in  perpetuity  off  Mohammerah,  and  con- 
sists of  two  pre-Dreadnoughts,  once  merchantmen, 
commanded  by  an  ex-captain  of  the  Belgian  Mer- 
cantile Marine.  Rumour  has  it  that  the  Navy  is 
immobilised  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  flagship  is 
without  her  engines,  these  necessary  adjuncts  to 
locomotion  having  been  privily  sold  by  a  former 
commander,    if   rumour    speaks    true,    when    that 


Mohammerah.      A  Creek  off  the  Kc 


Riverside,  Mohammerah. 


Marseilles  to  Mohammerah  41 

gallant  officer  was  particularly  hard  pressed  by 
his  creditors.  However  that  may  be,  the  vessels 
are  kept  outwardly  smart  and  in  good  trim,  and 
present  a  fine  spectacle  when,  rigged  out  with 
bunting,  they  fire  a  royal  salute  on  the  Shah's 
birthday. 


42 


CHAPTER   III. 

PRELIMINARIES    TO   THE   START. 

Christmas  passed  at  Mohammerah  with  such  a 
round  of  festivity  and  good  cheer  as  to  obliterate 
any  feeling  of  exile  on  a  far-off  shore.  Hospitality 
is  practised  in  the  Gulf  in  that  open-hearted  fashion 
which  is  the  characteristic  of  English  people  in 
out-of-the-way  parts,  and  our  Christmas  dinner  at 
the  Consulate  with  Major  and  Mrs  Ha  worth,  and 
the  New  Year  fancy-dress  ball  at  the  house  of 
one  of  the  oldest  British  residents  at  Basra,  were 
memories  to  be  cherished  fondly  in  the  lean  days 
to  come.  The  mention  of  good  cheer,  by  the  way, 
brings  to  mind  a  little  anecdote  which  is  told  of  a 
wealthy  and  influential  native  merchant  of  Moham- 
merah, and  is  a  nice  illustration  of  the  universality 
of  that  painful  obligation  which  falls  at  times  on 
the  best  of  us,  namely,  of  "keeping  up  appearances." 
Hajji  Ahmad,  the  hero  of  the  story,  is  a  person- 
age much  respected  for  his  wealth  and  piety,  but 
he  has,  I  grieve  to  say,  acquired  from  his  English 
friends  such  a  taste  for  whisky  that  he  finds  it 


Preliminaries  to  the  Start  43 

hard  to  get  through  the  morning  without  his 
'*  tot."  A  friend  of  his  died  one  day,  and  after 
attending  the  funeral  he  joined  a  gathering  of 
pious  folk  collected  for  the  performance  of  religious 
exercises  in  memory  of  the  deceased.  Each  man, 
as  the  custom  is,  had  brought  with  him  a  little 
teapot  full  of  water  to  moisten  his  lips  when 
parched  with  chanting  the  Koran.  Our  Hajji's 
teapot  contained  a  less  innocent  beverage,  the 
odour  of  which  reached  the  nostrils  of  a  holy 
Mollah  seated  opposite.  The  Moll  ah,  scandalised 
beyond  words,  rose  and  denounced  the  Hajji  to 
the  assembly.  A  horrified  murmur  ran  round  the 
room,  but  the  Hajji's  wdt  did  not  desert  him ; 
turning  to  a  respectable  fellow -merchant  at  his 
side  with  whom  he  had  an  important  contract  in 
prospect,  he  handed  him  his  teapot,  and  with  a 
surreptitious  nudge  of  the  elbow,  bade  him  drink. 
The  merchant  took  a  gulp,  and  barely  concealed 
the  agony  of  his  burnt  gullet.  "  Whisky  or 
water  ? "  asked  the  Hajji  in  uncompromising  tones. 
"Water,  by  God,"  loyally  replied  the  merchant, 
realising  the  issue  at  stake.  Whereupon  the 
Hajji  rose,  full  of  righteous  indignation,  and  hug- 
ging the  teapot  carefully  to  his  bosom,  marched 
from  the  room,  vowing  that  he  would  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  such  infamous  slanderers. 

Whence  it  is  clear  that  there  are  religious 
hypocrites  all  the  world  over,  who  share  the  old 
Pharisaical  view  concerning  the  "inside  of  the 
cup  " — or,  as  in  this  case,  of  the  teapot ! 


44  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

The  streets  of  Mohammerah  are  filthy  beyond 
the  power  of  description,  but  as  all  the  European 
bungalows,  including  the  bank  and  the  club,  lie 
along  the  river  -  bank,  one  goes  everywhere  by 
water,  as  if  one  were  in  Venice,  and  so  avoids 
their  horrors.  For  this  purpose  there  exists  a 
particularly  well -adapted  form  of  craft  called  a 
helem,  as  characteristic  and  almost  as  fascinating 
a  boat  as  the  fast-disappearing  caique  of  Constan- 
tinople. In  shape  it  is  a  hybrid  between  a  canoe 
and  a  punt,  while  it  has  a  slight  soui^gon  of  the 
gondola  added ;  that  is  to  say,  it  has  the  general 
lines  of  the  first,  the  flat  bottom  of  the  second, 
with  a  graceful  curl  of  the  bow  and  stern  re- 
miniscent of  the  third.  The  passenger  reposes  in 
cushioned  ease  in  the  middle  of  the  boat,  with  two 
rowers  in  front  of  him  and  one  behind.  I  call 
them  "  rowers,"  but  in  fact  their  functions  are  no 
less  hybrid  than  the  craft.  When  going  against 
the  tide  they  pole  along  near  into  the  bank,  using 
their  long  flexible  bamboo  poles  so  cleverly  that 
the  progress  is  quite  surprisingly  rapid  and  smooth  ; 
if,  on  the  other  hand,  the  tide  is  favourable,  they 
unship  round-bladed  paddles,  and  your  helem  glides 
in  mid-stream  with  an  occasional  quiet  stroke  to 
hold  it  on  its  course. 

The  town  itself  straggles  for  nearly  a  mile  along 
the  northern  bank.  Like  many  other  Eastern 
cities  it  possesses  a  meretricious  charm,  hiding 
away  an  ignoble  jumble  of  mud-built  houses  be- 
hind a  singularly  picturesque  river  front.  Sliding 
past  it  in  a  helem,  the  impression  one  receives  is 


Preliminaries  to  the  Start  45 

of  blue-painted  balconies,  tented  coffee-shops,  and 
fragrant  gardens,  with  a  few  intervening  creeks 
spanned  by  high-arched  bridges  of  mellow  brick- 
work. 

While  we  were  still  busy  with  the  thousand 
and  one  preparations  for  our  journey,  buying 
horses,  packing  kit,  engaging  servants,  and  so 
forth,  the  last  of  our  belated  colleagues  arrived, 
and  the  official  frock  -  coat  visites  de  ceremonie 
having  been  duly  exchanged,  the  work  of  the 
Commission  began.  The  first  meeting  was  held 
at  the  Prime  Minister's  house ;  he  is  a  rich 
Persian  merchant  who,  at  the  mature  age  of 
sixty,  had  left  his  native  land  some  months 
before  to  pay  his  first  visit  to  Europe  and 
"  Parees."  His  son,  however,  did  the  honours 
in  a  fine  reception-room,  hung  round  with  forty 
or  fifty  oleograph  portraits  of  crowned  heads  and 
presidents,  past  and  present,  ranging  from  the 
Shah  of  Persia  to  Kruger.  The  Turkish  Com- 
missioners differed  from  the  rest  in  being  soldiers 
instead  of  diplomats ;  indeed  their  whole  party 
was  organised  on  strictly  military  lines,  very 
much  to  the  disgust  of  my  "opposite  number," 
to  use  a  naval  phrase,  who,  being  a  Foreign  Office 
Secretary  accustomed  to  a  civilian's  life  of  ease 
and  luxury,  did  not  at  all  appreciate  the  rigours 
of  field-service  conditions. 

Our  first  piece  of  active  work  was  a  trip  down 
the  Shatt  to  the  river's  mouth,  on  board  the  gun- 
boat Marmaris,  the    only   war    vessel,    besides    a 


4-6  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

couple  of  armed  launches,  which  the  Turks  kept 
in  these  waters.  The  frontier  follows  the  left 
bank  of  the  Shatt,  so  all  that  had  to  be  done 
was  to  &x  the  point  where  it  first  strikes  the 
shore  from  seawards,  and  settle  the  case  of  a 
few  small  islands  near  the  Persian  bank.  A  few 
days  later  the  solemn  act  was  performed  of  erect- 
ing boundary  pillar  Number  1. 

The  occasion  was  one  of  great  ceremony  and 
not  a  little  humour,  and  deserves,  I  think,  some 
description.  The  site  of  the  pillar  is  at  Diaiji, 
a  village  a  few  miles  up-stream  from  Mohammerah, 
where  the  frontier  leaves  the  river  to  strike  north- 
wards into  the  desert.  The  whole  Commission 
took  part,  and  embarking  this  time  on  a  Persian 
steamer  (to  equalise  matters),  steamed  up  to 
Failiyeh  to  pick  up  the  Sheikh  and  his 
eldest  son. 

The  palace  faces  on  to  the  river,  and  is  chiefly 
remarkable  for  an  alarming  wood -work  erection 
painted  brightest  blue,  supporting  two  heraldic 
shields,  emblazoned  with  the  Sheikh's  initials  in 
European  characters.  Adjoining  the  palace  is 
his  Highness's  private  theatre,  and  round  about 
clusters  a  considerable  village  inhabited  by  his 
bodyguard,  a  ragamuffin  crew  of  armed  men, 
mostly  of  negro  blood,  who  accompany  their 
master  wherever  he  goes — a  necessary  precaution 
in  a  country  where  the  assassins  knife  has  ac- 
counted for  more  than  one  ruler. 

We  had  towed  up  a  small  flotilla  of  boats,  into 


Preliminaries  to  the  Start  47 

which  we  embarked  at  the  mouth  of  a  canal.     The 
Sheikh,  who  wore  a  long  red  cloak,  travelled  in  a 
helem  double  the  ordinary  size,  while  the  body- 
guard kept  pace  along  the  bank,  not  in  the  least 
embarrassed  by  having  to  wade  waist-deep  across 
side    canals    every    few    minutes.      At    one   point 
there    was    a   village   on   the  bank   of  the   canal, 
with  a  high   wall  outside.     As  the  Sheikh's  boat 
drew  level  with   it,   a   chorus  of  feminine  voices 
from  behind  the  wall  raised  a  chant  of"  Hosanna," 
greeting   their  chief  as  the   people   of  Jerusalem 
used  to  greet  their  king.     We  proceeded  up  the 
canal  for  two  miles  in  a  stately  procession,  till, 
the  tide  falling,  we   found  ourselves  aground  on 
the   mud,    and    had    to    take    to    our   legs.      The 
Sheikh,   after  being   shoved — helem   and    all — for 
some    distance    over    the    mud    by    the    united 
strength  of  the  bodyguard,  and  its  being  beneath 
the  dignity    of  a   Sheikh    to   walk    on   foot,   had 
perforce   to  return   home,  leaving   his  son  to  ac- 
company us  and  do  the  honours.     The  latter  is 
a  handsome  youth,  sufficiently  civilised  to  drive 
a    motor  -  car,    and    at    the    same    time    oriental 
enough    to    have    been    recently   relieved    of   his 
governorship    of   a    town    for    having    too   many 
merchants  beaten  to  death  ! 

Our  path  led  through  palm  groves,  and  a  very 
sporting  element  was  introduced  by  the  palm- 
trunk  bridges,  over  which  we  had  to  cross  the 
innumerable  small  canals.  Formed  of  a  single 
trunk  sagging  heavily  in  the  centre,  these  bridges 


48  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

provide  one  with  all  the  sensations  of  a  tight-rope 
dance,  and  once  on  them  it  was  difficult  for  some 
of  our  more  corpulent  colleagues,  arrayed  in  their 
smartest  uniforms  and  decorations,  to  retain  the 
dignity  they  possessed  on  terra  jirma.  After  one 
or  two  partial  immersions  we  arrived  at  the  site 
of  the  pillar,  and  began  the  work  of  the  day. 
First  came  the  gruesome  sacrifice  of  a  poor  sheep, 
whose  life  not  even  the  British  Commissioner's 
prayers  could  save.  A  stake  was  then  driven  in, 
and  each  of  the  four  Commissioners  having  laid 
a  brick  round  its  foot,  a  body  of  local  masons 
completed  the  edifice.  When  I  spoke  of  the 
"work  of  the  day"  I  was  mistaken;  that  began 
after  the  pillar  had  been  built.  We  walked  back 
to  the  village,  and  there  found  a  huge  marquee 
erected  by  the  Sheikh  for  our  reception.  We 
entered — and  were  dumb.  Imagine  a  huge  tent 
with  tablecloths  laid  on  the  floor  round  three 
sides,  and  on  them  set  such  a  sea  of  dishes  that 
any  attempt  to  count  them  was  hopeless.  I  made 
a  rough  calculation  by  counting  the  dishes  on  a 
single  section,  and  multiplying  by  the  number  of 
sections  ;  the  result  worked  out  at  something  over 
two  hundred  and  fifty.  Four  whole  roast  sheep 
formed  the  pieces  de  resistance ;  around  them  were 
ten  dishes,  some  eight  feet  in  circumference, 
heaped  mountain  -  high  with  pillau,  and  each 
crowned  with  a  roast  lamb,  twenty  or  thirty 
fowls  on  smaller  dishes,  and  innumerable  bowls 
of  rice,  hashes,  and  junkets.     We  sat   reverently 


Preliminaries  to  the  Start  49 

down  before  this  unheard-of  profusion  on  a  row 
of  beautiful  carpets.  A  touch  of  the  vulgar  West 
was,  alas!  introduced  by  the  drinks,  which  con- 
sisted of  whisky  and  porter ;  however,  the  latter 
seemed  in  keeping  with  the  roast  sheep,  so  we 
elected  to  drink  that.  All  trace  of  the  Occident 
was  entirely  dispelled,  however,  by  the  arrival  of 
a  grizzled  old  nigger  in  a  long  linen  dress,  and 
a  beltful  of  cartridges  round  his  waist,  who  acted 
the  part  of  butler.  The  dishes  in  the  centre  of 
the  cloth  were,  of  course,  far  out  of  one's  reach, 
so  the  old  fellow  kicked  off  his  shoes,  trussed  up 
his  skirts,  and  stalked  boldly  on  to  the  "table." 
He  wielded  an  enormous  ladle,  with  which  he 
piled  up  your  plate  from  whichever  dish  you 
chose,  unless  he  thought  you  looked  particularly 
hungry,  when  he  took  your  plate,  and  burying 
it  bodily  in  a  mountain  of  iDillau,  handed  it 
back  heaped  a  foot  high.  Finally,  he  tackled 
a  whole  sheep  by  the  very  simple  process  of 
seizing  the  body  with  one  hand  and  a  leg  with 
the  other,  giving  a  hearty  wrench  and — handing 
you  your  joint.  I  was  sitting  fascinated  by  his 
huge  black  feet  wandering  unscathed  among  the 
multitude  of  dishes,  when  he  turned  round 
abruptly  to  give  me  my  plate,  lost  his  balance, 
and  put  his  foot  splosh  into  a  luscious  dish  of 
apricots  and  chicken  hash.  He  was  not  a  whit 
disconcerted,  however,  but  passed  serenely  on  his 
way,  leaving  behind  him  an  intricate  design  in 
brown  and  yellow  on  the  tablecloth.     We  finished 

D 


50  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

the  banquet  without  making  the  smallest  visible 
effect  on  the  piles  of  victuals,  and  retired  to  coffee 
and  cigarettes,  while  the  retainers  were  let  loose 
on  the  feast ;  half  an  hour  later  there  was  not  a 
grain  of  rice  left !  In  the  meantime  the  tide  had 
risen,  and  to  every  one's  intense  relief  the  belems 
were  found  waiting  only  a  few  hundred  yards 
away  to  take  us  back  to  the  ship.  What  would 
have  happened  if  we  had  had  to  face  again  the 
single  palm-trunk  bridges,  I  shudder  to  think  ! 

Our  escort  arrived  from  India  a  few  days  after 
the  rest  of  us.  It  was  commanded  by  Captain 
Brooke  of  the  18th  (King  George's  Own)  Lancers, 
and  consisted  of  a  native  officer  and  30  soivars. 
Captain  Dyer  of  the  93rd  Burma  Light  Infantry 
joined  as  Transport  Officer  soon  after,  and  so  our 
numbers  were  complete.  The  entire  party,  in- 
cluding 8  English  officers,  the  escort,  an  Indian 
clerk,  4  Indian  surveyors,  and  40  survey -kholassis, 
servants,  syces,  farrashes,  muleteers,  and  camp- 
followers  of  every  description,  totalled  about  150 
men.  The  Bussians  and  Persians  numbered  rather 
fewer,  while  the  Turks,  who  travelled  very  light, 
were  scarcely  more  than  50.  The  Bussians,  I  must 
remark  en  passant,  emphasised  the  cosmopolitan 
nature  of  the  Commission  by  bringing  with  them 
a  Chinese  dJiohi,  picked  up  heaven-knows-where, 
but  a  first-rate  performer  with  the  soap-suds ! 

The  very  formidable  task  of  arranging  beforehand 
for  the  transport  and  provisioning  of  such  a  party 


Preliminaries  to  the  Start  51 

as  our  own  across  nearly  400  miles  of  almost  un- 
inhabited desert  had  fallen  on  the  broad  shoulders 
of  the  Deputy  Commissioner,  Captain  Wilson,  who 
had  preceded  the  rest  to  Mohammerah  for  this 
purpose.  He  knew  the  country  well,  having  acted 
as  Consul  at  Mohammerah  and  travelled  largely 
in  Arabistan,  as  well  as  in  the  wilder  regions  of 
Luristan,  which  lies  beyond  the  mountains ;  but 
armed  as  he  was  with  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
local  conditions,  a  wide-spread  reputation  among 
the  Arabs,  and  a  quite  inexhaustible  fund  of  energy, 
it  was  still  no  light  matter. 

No  mules  were  obtainable  locally,  so  the  whole 
complement  of  230  odd  had  to  be  hired  from  places 
such  as  Shuster  and  Hamadan,  the  latter  as  much 
as  300  miles  away.  Camels  were  to  be  had,  but 
an  initial  experiment  with  50  of  these  beasts 
proved  them,  even  in  their  native  element,  less 
suitable  than  mules  for  the  sort  of  work  in 
hand. 

The  latter  appeared  one  morning  out  of  the 
blank  desert  behind  our  camp,  heralded  by  a  great 
rattle  of  hoofs  and  carillon  of  bells,  and  accom- 
panied by  smiling  muleteers  apparently  as  little 
concerned  as  the  beasts  themselves  at  the  prospect 
of  a  journey  to  Ararat  and  back.  They  formed 
such  an  intrinsic  part  of  our  existence  throughout 
the  expedition  that  I  will  start  by  giving  the  best 
idea  I  can  of  what  a  Persian  mule-train  is  like. 
The  owner  accompanies  his  own  beasts ;  if  he  is 
the  proud  possessor  of  20  or  more  he  is  usually 


52  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

mounted  on  an  arab  mare,  leaving  yetims  {anglice, 
orphans)  actually  to  drive  the  teams  ;  if  he  has 
only  half  a  dozen  or  so  he  goes  on  foot,  with  a 
diminutive  donkey  to  carry  his  belongings  and 
himself  when  tired.  Every  bunch  of  fourteen  or 
fifteen  mules  is  led  by  a  yahu,  a  pony  who  per- 
forms the  duty  of  a  bell-wether  to  a  flock  of  sheep. 
The  mule  carries  his  load  on  a  wooden  pack-saddle, 
a  cumbersome  high  -  peaked  thing  which  never 
leaves  his  back  day  or  night  while  on  the  march. 
The  poor  beast  is  thus  debarred  from  that  greatest 
of  mulish  joys — rolling,  and  it  is  a  truly  pitiful 
sight  to  see  him,  released  from  his  load,  lie  down 
on  the  sand  and  struggle  wildly  to  get  his  hoofs 
in  the  air,  his  efforts  perpetually  baffled  by  the 
projecting  peak  of  his  saddle. 

The  musical  lady  of  Banbury  Cross  is  quite 
thrown  into  the  shade  by  the  Persian  pack  mule, 
and  even  more  so  by  his  companion,  the  yahu. 
Though  deterred  by  nature  from  wearing  bells 
on  his  "  fingers  and  toes,"  he  more  than  makes 
up  for  it  by  the  quantity  which  hang  from  every 
other  part  of  his  anatomy  and  transform  him  into 
a  kind  of  ambulant  belfry.  An  inventory  of  the 
trappings  of  a  really  self-respecting  yahu  would 
be  somewhat  as  follows  :  Beginning  at  his  head, 
he  wears  a  headstall  hung  all  over  with  tassels 
and  little  round  bells,  and  thickly  encrusted  with 
blue -and -white  beads  edged  with  cowrie  shells; 
the  headstall  broadens  out  over  his  forehead  where 
it  frames  a  round  piece  of  looking-glass,   giving 


Mules  and  a  Yabu. 


Two  Muleteers. 


Preliminaries  to  the  Start  53 

him  a  rather  cyclopean  air,  while  between  his  ears 
there  nods  an  imitation  bird  the  size  of  a  thrush, 
covered  also  with  beads.  His  neck  is  encircled 
by  a  broad  strap  handsomely  encrusted  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  headstall,  from  which  dangles 
a  set  of  bells  of  ever  decreasing  size,  fitting  within 
each  other  after  the  fashion  of  Chinese  boxes.  His 
gaudily-coloured  breeching  is  edged  with  scores  of 
little  bells,  while  to  crown  all  there  hang  sus- 
pended on  either  side  of  his  saddle,  so  as  to  almost 
brush  the  ground,  two  colossal  bells  nearly  two 
feet  high.  I  had  the  doubtful  privilege  of  having 
a  particularly  swell  yahu  in  my  team  whose  owner 
had  the  distressing  habit,  on  arriving  in  camp 
after  it  mattered  not  how  many  hours  hard  march- 
ing, of  urging  his  beast  into  a  furious  gallop,  while 
he  executed  a  kind  of  devastating  musical  ride 
in  and  out  of  boxes  and  tent  ropes,  with  such  a 
chiming  and  clanging  of  bells  as  never  was  heard, 
and  to  the  serious  detriment  of  the  contents  of 
my  yaJcdans  bumping  and  bouncing  on  the  poor 
animal's  back. 

The  charvadar,  as  the  Persian  muleteer  is  called, 
is  usually  a  cheerful  fellow  in  spite  of  his  hard  life, 
and  ours  were  no  exception.  When  not  on  the 
march  they  spent  all  their  spare  time  sitting 
beneath  their  low  black  shelters — they  are  too 
shapeless  to  be  called  tents — sipping  eternal  glasses 
of  tea,  gossiping  and  smoking  their  long-stemmed 
pipes,  which  when  not  in  use  they  carry  stuck 
through  their  cummerbunds  ;  but  during  the  idle 


54  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

days    at    Mohammerah    they  emulated    the   more 
active  pastimes  of  the  Indian  sowars.     One  even- 
ing, hearing  a   great  hullabaloo  from  behind  the 
camp,  we  went  out  to  see  the  cause,  and  found 
a  tug-of-war  going  on  between  a  team  of  soivars 
and  another  of  Persian  muleteers.     The  Persians 
were  lusty  fellows  and  were    putting   up    a  very 
good  pull,   encouraging   each   other    all   the   time 
with  shrieks  of  ''Allah."     Some  bare-legged  shep- 
herds  driving  their  flocks  home  had  stopped  on 
their  way  to   watch   the   fun,   and  they   in  turn 
were  presently  joined  by  a  party  of  the  Sheikh's 
henchmen,   Biblical-looking  figures  in   the    tradi- 
tional flowing  Arab  dress,  carrying  long-barrelled, 
silver-bound  rifles.     Seeing  after  a  while  that  their 
countrymen  were  in  danger  of  being  hauled  over 
the  line,  the  onlookers  could  contain  themselves  no 
longer,  but  rushed  madly  in  and  seizing  the  rope 
brought    the    proceedings    to    an    abrupt     close. 
Afterwards  a  party  of  our  Persian  servants  and 
hangers-on  indulged  in  the  ancient  and — it  would 
seem — universal   game   of  leap-frog.     They  were 
a  queer  crew.     The  "frog"  was  a  genteel-looking 
individual,    in    a    long   blue    frock-coat,  with    the 
Eoyal  Arms   on   his   hat,  and  was  leapt  over  by 
a  succession  of  the  wildest  creatures  in  ragged  red 
or  brown  shirts,  and  bell-mouthed  trousers  reaching 
half-way  down  their  legs,  with  greasy  black  curls 
waving,  as  they  ran,  from  under   the  black   felt 
hullahs — a  form   of  head-gear  which  I   can   only 


Preliminaries  to  the  Start  55 

compare    to    a    French    casserole   turned   upside 
down. 

The   sporting    procHvities    of    the    charvadars 
found   their    fullest    scope,   however,   on   the    day 
of    our     gymkhana.       It     was     a     very    pukka 
gymkhana.     There  were  horse  -  races,  foot  -  races, 
sack-races,  tent-pegging,  trick-riding,  and  a  full- 
dress   mounted  display  by  the   Lancers,  but   the 
event    of  the    day  was    the    half-mile  mule   race 
(owners  up).     There  was  a  field  of  fifty,  and  they 
duly  ranged  up  at  the  end   of  the   course.     But 
whereas  one  man  can  get  a  mule  to  the  starting- 
point,  no  power  on  earth  can  make  him  start  in 
any  direction  but  the  one  he  chooses.     The  direc- 
tion these    particular  mules   chose  was    at   right 
angles  to  the  racecourse,  and  in  two  minutes  they 
had  disappeared    among    the    date-groves.     They 
were  duly  retrieved  and  again  faced  the  starter, 
and  a  minute  later  the  whole  lot  came  bucketing 
down  the  course  with  the  thunder  of  a  cavalry 
charge,  led  by  our  Deputy  Commissioner  mounted 
on  a  big  white  horse  which  performed  the  function 
of  the   humble    yahu.       Fifty   mules   with    bells 
clanging  and   clashing,   mounted   by  fifty  madly 
excited  riders  clad  in  every  colour  of  the  rainbow, 
and    bouncing    like    peas    in    the    huge   wooden 
saddles,    galloping    pell-mell    in    the    wake    of  a 
British  officer  cantering  along  with  all  the  dignity 
of  the  parade-ground,  was  a  sight  for  the  gods. 
The  charvadars  wondered  why  we  laughed ! 


56  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

The  subsequent  prize-giving  was  perhaps  the 
most  picturesque  part  of  the  show,  when  Mrs 
Ha  worth,  the  wife  of  the  Consul,  graciously  pre- 
sented prizes  in  turn  to  gorgeously  -  uniformed 
sowars,  tattered  camp-followers,  respectable  English 
residents,  and,  last  but  not  least,  to  the  hero  of 
the  mule  race,  a  sturdy  but  bashful  little  fellow 
barely  5  feet  high,  with  a  long  henna  -  stained 
beard,  a  green  shawl  round  his  waist,  and  gnarled 
brown  le^s  bare  from  the  knee  downwards. 

The  work  of  the  corps  technique  had  all 
this  time  been  going  on  apace,  most  of  it  de- 
volving on  the  British  members.  It  did  not 
proceed  without  a  slight  mishap.  Fao  having 
been  successfully  fixed  in  relation  to  Bushire, 
Major  Cowie  set  off  thither  one  windy  day  to 
carry  the  connection  up  to  Mohammerah.  He 
took  a  motor  boat  and  put  his  servant,  kit,  and 
four  days'  provisions  in  a  helem  which  they  towed 
behind.  The  shimdl  was  fierce  and  the  river 
rough,  and  when  half-way  to  Fao  the  helem 
shipped  a  wave  and  sank.  The  servant  was 
rescued  by  the  scruff  of  his  neck,  but  kit  and 
provisions  went  to  the  bottom,  where  they  doubt- 
less found  a  billet  in  the  maw  of  a  shark.  The 
motor  boat  breaking  down  soon  after,  the  unfor- 
tunate Major  had  to  live  on  such  charity  as  Fao 
can  provide  till  he  caught  the  next  up-mail  four 
days  later.  In  the  meantime,  however,  a  British 
naval    record    was    discovered    giving    the   exact 


Preliminaries  to  the  Start  57 

position  of  Mohammerah,  and  a  base  having  been 
accurately  measured  at  Mohammerah  itself,  a 
traverse  was  run  up  the  Kariin  to  Nasiri  near 
Ahwaz.  It  was  from  there  that  the  regular 
triangulation  was  begun,  on  which  is  based  the 
new  map  of  the  frontier. 


58 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THROUGH   THE   LAND   OF   ELAM   (1). 

The  winter  rains  were  comfortably  over  when,  on 
February  14,  we  left  Mohammerah  on  the  first 
stage  of  our  journey.  The  surface  was  dry  but 
soft  after  the  frequent  floods  of  the  last  two 
months,  and  made  the  going  perfect,  while  the 
air  had  that  matchless  combination  of  warmth  and 
crispness  which  you  find  only  among  mountains 
or  in  the  desert  in  early  spring. 

But  before  telling  of  the  journey  I  must 
sketch  roughly  its  scheme.  The  frontier,  after 
leaving  the  celebrated  pillar  No.  1  at  Diaiji, 
runs  for  sixty  or  seventy  miles  due  north,  turns 
due  west  for  another  twenty,  and  finally  north- 
wards again  till  it  reaches  a  spot  called  Umm 
Chir,  or  "The  Mother  of  Pitch."  Beyond  that 
there  is  a  great  stretch  of  200  miles,  where  it 
goes  in  a  fairly  straight  line  north-west  to 
Mendeli,  situated  on  a  latitude  slightly  north 
of  Bagdad.  These  details  are  necessary  to  ex- 
plain the  Commission's  wanderings.  As  far  as 
Umm  Chir  the  frontier  could  be  marked  on  the 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (i)       59 

map  but  not  on  the  ground ;  for  the  reason  that 
the  first  part  of  it  runs  through  an   arid  desert 
too  dry  for  travellers  to  pass  through,  the  second 
part  through    an    immense  marsh   (the   Khor-el- 
Azem)   which   is   too  wet.       The    desert   and    the 
greater  portion  of  the   marsh   being  uninhabited, 
there  was,  moreover,   no  need  for  pillars  even   if 
it  had  been  possible  to  erect  them ;  so  the  frontier 
was  made  to  follow  convenient  lines  of  longitude 
and    latitude    and    left    to    look    after    itself      A 
rendezvous  was  fixed  at  Umm  Chir,  giving  each 
Commission  a  fortnight  to  get  there  by  whatever 
way  it  chose.     The  route  selected  by  the  British 
Commission  formed  roughly  two  arms  of  a  triangle 
—the    first    arm    running  through  the   Arabistan 
desert  parallel  to  the  Kartin  for  about  sixty  miles ; 
the   other    set    at    an   obtuse    angle   towards   the 
north  -  west,  and  passing  along  part  of  the  river 
Kerkha    and    the    northern    edge    of    the    great 
marsh. 

One  last  thin  thread  of  civihsation  accompanied 
us  for  the  first  day  or  two  of  our  march  into  the 
wilderness — to  wit,  the  Persian  State  Telegraph. 
The  line  had  been  almost  always  reported  "out 
of  order  "  when  we  had  wanted  to  send  telegrams 
from  Mohammerah  during  the  previous  six  weeks, 
— once  seen,  what  amazed  one  was  that  it  is  ever 
in  order.  A  row  of  inebriated  wiggly  posts 
stretches  across  the  desert;  some  have  staples 
driven  in  to  carry  the  wire,  some  have  not.  In 
the  latter  case  the  wire  is  simply  twined  round 
the  post.      Where  two  lengths  join,  the  ends  are 


6o  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

twisted  casually  together,  and  sometimes  for  as 
much  as  a  hundred  yards  on  end  the  whole 
thing  trails  along  the  ground.  And  yet  messages 
have  been  known  to  get  through  ! 

The  desert  at  this  season  of  the  year,  where  not 
too  much  impregnated  with  salt,  is  covered  with 
patches  of  young  grass  as  smooth  and  as  fine  as 
the  lawn  of  a  cathedral  close.  Among  the  grass 
grow  tiny  aromatic  plants,  almost  indistinguish- 
able to  the  eye,  but  filling  the  whole  air  with  a 
pleasant,  keen  smell.  The  effects  of  mirage  are 
often  startling.  Our  caravan,  when  on  the  march, 
straggled  over  two  or  three  miles  of  country,  and 
to  any  one  riding  somewhere  near  the  middle  the 
head  and  tail  of  the  procession  seemed  always  to 
be  marching  through  a  smooth,  shallow  lake  ;  occa- 
sionally, for  some  unfathomable  cause,  the  mules 
and  men  would  execute  a  bewildering  feat  of 
"levitation"  and  continue  their  progress  in  the 
sky.  Often  w^e  saw  a  lake  spread  out  on  the 
horizon,  stretching  a  long  arm  towards  us  to 
within  a  few  hundred  yards ;  at  other  times  a 
clump  of  palms  or  a  group  of  mounted  men 
appeared  in  the  distance,  only  to  resolve  them- 
selves, as  we  approached  nearer,  into  bushes  of 
low  desert  scrub  or  a  grazing  flock  of  goats.^ 

1  Speaking  of  mirage,  a  curious  incident  is  reported  to  have  hap- 
pened during  the  fighting  between  Fao  and  Basra  at  the  beginning  of 
the  Mesopotamian  campaign. 

Our  men,  after  a  particularly  courageous  attack  across  the  open 
desert  (which  at  the  time  was  such  a  sea  of  mud  that  they  had  to 
advance  at  the  walk),  reached  the  Turkish  trenches  and  put  the 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (i)       6i 

Sleep  was  hard  to  woo  on  our  first  night  in 
the  desert.  The  muleteers,  either  through  lazi- 
ness or  fear  of  thieves,  always  left  the  bells  on 
their  mules  and  picketed  the  animals  in  line 
outside  our  tents.  It  takes  some  time  to  attune 
one's  ears  to  the  unwonted  music,  and  what  little 
sleep  this  "nocturne"  spared  us  I  and  my  tent- 
fellow  sacrificed  through  ignorance  of  Persian 
custom.  Both  our  Persian  servants  sported  osten- 
tatiously large  European  watches.  We  gave  the 
order  to  be  called  at  six  alia  franca.  The  noisy 
eruption  of  my  boy  at  half-past  three  woke  us 
from  our  recent  slumbers.  Curses  and  missiles 
having  convinced  him  of  his  error,  he  fled — only 
to  be  followed  by  my  companion's  boy,  with  the 
same  ill-placed  zeal,  an  hour  later.  The  watches, 
had  we  known  it,  were  but  a  token  of  gentility, 
and  implied  no  ability  on  their  owners'  parts  to 
read  the  dial.  In  Persia  you  must  learn  to  use 
a  looser  phraseology  in  regard  to  time,  and 
regulate  your  hour  of  being  called  by  "the 
break  of  dawn"  or  "sunrise." 

On   the   afternoon   of  the   second  day's  march 

Turks  to  flight.  The  enemy  were  now  in  the  same  predicament  as 
the  British  had  been  in  just  before,  and  provided  a  splendid  target 
for  our  artillery  as  they  floundered  through  the  mire.  A  gunboat 
was  lying  in  the  river,  and  the  men  in  the  tops  were  watching  the 
proceedings  when  they  were  surprised  to  see  our  guns  suddenly  stop 
firing,  although  the  Turks  were  still  easily  within  range.  It  tran- 
spired later  that,  to  the  eyes  of  the  gunners  on  the  desert  level,  the 
target  had  disappeared  into  the  mirage. 


62  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

from  Mohammerah  there  comes  into  sight  a 
soUtary  group  of  trees,  a  pretty  sure  sign  in  this 
denuded  ^country  of  the  sacredness  of  the  spot 
on  which  they  grow.  There  among  them,  truly 
enough,  gleamed  the  white  dome  of  a  saint's 
tomb.  On  reaching  the  place,  we  were  puzzled 
to  find  the  ground  all  around  strewn  with  a 
number  of  shapeless  forms  covered  with  reed- 
matting.  Wilson,  knowing  the  country  well,  sup- 
phed  the  explanation.  The  buried  seyyid,  it 
seems,  stretches  an  arm  of  protection  over  all 
objects  within  a  certain  radius  of  his  tomb,  and 
such  is  the  odour  of  his  sanctity  that  not  the 
hardiest  thief  dare  touch  a  thing  within  the 
circle.  The  shapes  lying  round  were  ploughs, 
hoes,  and  any  other  bits  of  property  belonging 
to  the  semi-nomadic  country  folk,  who,  when  the 
season's  work  in  the  fields  is  over,  leave  them  here 
till  they  return  in  the  following  spring.  The  place 
has  thus  become  a  kind  of  "safe-deposit"  for  the 
entire  neio:hbourhood. 

But  another,  somewhat  gruesome,  class  of  goods 
is  warehoused  round  the  tomb — to  wit,  corpses. 
The  warehousing  of  a  corpse  sounds  a  trifle  in- 
decent, but  it  is  literally  what  takes  place.  Every 
true  Shia  cherishes  in  his  heart  the  ultimate  ideal 
of  being  buried  within  the  shade  of  the  holy 
shrine  of  Kerbela,  where  Hussein,  Ali's  son  of 
tragic  memory,  lies  buried.  Many  go  to  that 
spot  to  die;  others  are  carried  thither  by  pious 
relations    after   death.       Those   who   perform    the 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (i)       63 

posthumous  journey,  however,  have  a  burdensome 
condition  laid  upon  them  by  the  Turkish  sanitary 
authorities  —  they  must  have  been  dead  three 
years !  So  it  comes  about  that  a  temporary  rest- 
ing-place has  to  be  found  for  them ;  and  here,  by 
Karun's  bank,  beneath  the  secondary  shadow  of 
the  poor  old  saint,  the  little  colony  of  pilgrims  in 
purgatory  wait  patiently  beneath  their  humble 
huts  of  reeds. 

The  country  I  am  now  describing  was  the  scene 
of  Layard's  'Early  Adventures.'  "Adventures" 
seems  almost  too  mild  a  term  for  the  amazing  life 
he  led  among  the  cut-throat  tribes  of  the  Bakh- 
tiari,  Lurs,  and  Arabs ;  his  wanderings  in  disguise 
were  as  daring  as  any  of  Sir  Richard  Burton's 
Arabian  travels.  It  was  between  1840  and  1842 
that  the  future  discoverer  of  Nineveh  came  to 
Arabistan.  He  was  twenty-two  years  old,  and, 
tiring  of  work  in  a  London  solicitor's  office,  had 
decided  to  try  his  fortune  at  the  Bar  in  Ceylon. 
He  conceived  the  astounding  project  of  making 
his  way  thither  overland.  Passing  through  Con- 
stantinople, Syria,  and  Bagdad,  Layard  reached 
the  Bakhtiari  country  at  the  moment  when  one  of 
their  principal  chiefs  was  attacked  by  the  Shah's 
army  under  a  most  bloodthirsty  and  unscrupulous 
eunuch  known  as  the  Matamet.  The  chief  was 
forced  to  leave  his  mountain  fastness  and  flee  for 
his  life  into  the  plains  of  Arabistan,  to  find  refuge 
with  his  friend  the  Sheikh  of  Mohammerah.  The 
Matamet  and  his  army  pursued ;  and  Layard  de- 


64  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

scribes  how  the  terrified  Arabs  broke  down  all  the 
dykes  and  irrigation  dams,  so  as  to  flood  the 
country  against  the  invaders ;  pulled  to  bits  their 
huts  of  reeds  (such  as  they  still  live  in  to-day), 
and  made  of  the  debris  rafts  on  which  they  em- 
barked with  their  families  and  what  few  goods 
they  could  take.  Layard  himself,  alone  and  help- 
less— he  had  been  stripped  by  brigands  shortly 
before— managed  to  build  a  small  raft  for  him- 
self, and,  joining  the  endless  flotilla  drifting  down 
the  river,  at  length  reached  comparative  safety  in 
the  Sheikh's  camp. 

In  those  days  the  tamarisk,  which  grows  in  a 
thick  tangle  in  many  places  along  the  Karim's 
bank,  was  a  favourite  haunt  of  lions.  The  fol- 
lowing is  Layard's  account  of  a  quaint  popular 
beUef  about  the  King  of  Beasts  :  "  The  lions  are 
divided  into  Mussulmans  and  Kafirs  or  infidels. 
The  first  are  tawny,  the  second  dark-yellow  with 
a  black  mane.  If  a  man  is  attacked  by  a  Mussul- 
man lion  he  must  take  ofl"  his  cap  and  very  humbly 
supplicate  the  animal  in  the  name  of  Ali  to  have 
pity  on  him.  The  proper  formula  is,  '  O  cat  of  Ali, 
I  am  a  servant  of  Ali.  Pass  by  my  house  {i.e., 
spare  me)  by  the  hand  of  Ali ! '  The  lion  will  then 
generously  spare  the  supplicant  and  depart.  Such 
consideration  must  not,  however,  be  expected  from 
a  Kafir  lion." 

The  natives  are  nowadays  spared  the  necessity 
of  such  a  momentous  discrimination,  as  it  is  now 
ten  years  or  more  since  the  last  lion  was  seen  in 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (i)       65 

this  part  of  the  world.  Their  quondam  prey,  the 
wild  pig,  hve,  in  consequence,  a  safe  and  unevent- 
ful life  on  the  river's  bank.  These,  with  the  shy 
herds  of  gazelle  which  occasionally  appear  on  the 
horizon,  and  the  ubiquitous  jackals  whose  howling 
makes  night  hideous,  are  almost  the  only  four- 
footed  beasts  to  inhabit  this  arid  land.  Birds, 
on  the  contrary,  are  very  numerous — snipe,  duck, 
partridges,  and  long-legged  cranes,  and,  above  all, 
sand-grouse. 

The  time  of  our  journey  through  the  desert  was 
the  sand-grouse  flocking  season,  and  one  could  ride 
for  hours  watching  their  amazing  manoeuvres  in  the 
sky.  On  the  horizon  would  appear  what  looked 
for  all  the  world  like  the  thick  cloud  of  smoke 
streaming  from  an  express  train.  Suddenly  the 
cloud  condensed  into  a  solid  mass,  and  an  instant 
later  a  point  shot  out  of  the  mass  into  the  sky  like 
an  exploding  rocket,  leaving  a  wedge-shaped  train 
behind.  The  next  minute  a  change  in  the  direction 
of  the  flock's  flight  would  make  it  vanish  as  if  by 
magic,  only  to  reappear  farther  along  the  horizon 
and  commence  its  strange  evolutions  over  again. 
How  many  scores  of  thousands  of  birds  go  to  make 
up  one  such  flock,  and  how  they  all  find  food,  are 
questions  which  must  puzzle  the  most  learned 
ornithologist.  They  say  the  beat  of  wings  is  quite 
deafening  when  a  flock  of  sand -grouse  is  still  two 
miles  away ;  but  for  this  I  could  not  vouch. 

On  the  third  day  out  from  Mohammerah,  when 
the  emptiness  of  the  landscape  was  beginning  to 

E 


66  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

grow  oppressive,  an  indistinct  whiteness  which  had 
been  long  visible  on  the  northern  horizon  gradually 
resolved  itself  into  the  great  snow-clad  Bakhtiari 
range.  Its  12,000 -feet  peaks  formed  a  dazzling 
barrier  between  the  plains  across  which  our  caravan 
was  slowly  crawling  and  the  great  tableland  be- 
yond, which  is  the  real  Persia.  The  hill  tribes 
which  live  among  these  mountains,  Lurs  and 
Bakhtiaris,  are  among  the  wildest  tribes  in  Persia, 
and  the  country  has  seldom  been  penetrated 
by  Europeans,  its  chief  explorer  of  recent  times 
being  Captain  Wilson  himself,  the  British  Deputy 
Commissioner. 

That  night  we  camped  at  Umm  el  Tummair, 
"  the  Mother  of  Date  Syrup,"  one  of  the  rare 
villages  dotted  on  or  near  the  Karun's  banks.  The 
method  of  nomenclature,  of  which  this  is  a  sample, 
is,  of  course,  a  favourite  one  among  Arabs,  who 
apply  it  indifferently  to  persons,  places,  and  ani- 
mals. The  names  they  give  are  often  delightfully 
expressive,  such  as  "  the  Father  of  Long  Noses," 
signifying  a  snipe.  Applied  to  human  beings  they 
are  apt  to  verge  on  the  personal,  as  the  following 
instance  may  show.  The  Sheikh  of  this  particular 
villao^e  wished  to  inform  us  that  he  had  seen  one 
of  our  foreign  colleagues  who  had  gone  on  ahead 
of  us  by  the  same  route.  Our  colleague  was  a  little 
conspicuous  by  his  corpulence,  and  the  Sheikh 
(meaning  no  offence)  expressed  himself  thus : 
"  This  morning  the  Father  of  Bellies  brought 
honour  to  our  village," 


M&^ 


On  the  Keikha. 


Crossing  the  Kerkha. 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (i)       67 

From  this  point  we  finally  parted  company  with 
the  Kariin  and  struck  across  to  the  Kerkha,  which 
here  is  only  a  short  march  away.  The  Kerkha  is 
the  modern  name  of  the  ancient  Choaspes,  whose 
water — though  having  nothing  particularly  taste- 
ful to  a  European  palate — had  such  a  vogue  among 
the  old  kings  of  Persia  that,  even  on  their  re- 
motest campaigns,  they  refused  to  drink  any  other, 
but  had  it  brought  to  them  daily  in  golden  jars 
carried  across  the  length  of  the  Empire  by  relays 
of  horsemen.  The  river  rises  near  Kermanshah, 
meanders  in  a  series  of  inconsequent  windings  to 
within  a  little  distance  of  the  Karun,  then  turns 
northwards  again,  and  ends  by  losing  itself  among 
the  marshes.  During  the  last  part  of  its  course 
it  passes  near  a  place  called  Howeiza,  where  some 
eighty  years  ago  it  gave  a  remarkable  display  of 
the  fickle  nature  which  it  shares  in  common  with 
all  the  streams  of  Mesopotamia.  The  river  at  that 
date  passed  through  the  town  and  watered  the 
fertile  lands  around.  Excellent  crops  were  raised, 
and  Howeiza  was  a  very  flourishing  town  of  30,000 
inhabitants.  One  fateful  day,  however,  the  good 
folk  of  the  place  woke  to  find  themselves  left  high 
and  dry — the  river  had,  in  the  night,  abandoned  its 
old  bed  and  taken  to  another  some  miles  away. 
Deprived  in  this  way  of  the  sole  cause  of  its 
prosperity,  Howeiza  rapidly  declined ;  in  a  short 
time  the  population  had  dwindled  to  a  tenth,  and 
nowadays  the  place  is  little  more  than  a  village. 

At  the  point  at  which  we  reached  it,  near  the 


68  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

village  of  Kut  Said  Ali,  it  was   about  100  yards 
across  and  very  deep.     Fortunately  we  were  still  in 
the  land  of  helems — though  the  rudely-built  pitch- 
covered  specimens  we  found  here  were  but  poor 
counterparts  of  the   white,   spick-and-span  boats 
at  Mohammerah.     A  small  fleet  of  them  ferried  us 
and    our  baggage   across,  the   horses  w^ere   towed 
behind,  and  the  mules,  stripped  for  once  of  their 
pack-saddles,  were  herded  together  at  the  top  of 
the   bank   and  driven  pell-mell    down  the  steep 
slope  into  the  water  like  Gadarene  swine,  where, 
finding  all  retreat  cut  off,  they  bravely  struck  out 
for   the   other  bank.     Some   camels  followed,  tied 
head  to  tail  in  a  string,  and  wearing  a  look  of,  if 
possible,  even  more  abject  despondency  than  they 
have  on  dry  land. 

A  family  of  seyyids  of  great  repute  live  in  this 
neighbourhood.  Those  soi-disant  descendants  of 
the  Prophet  enjoy  a  position  somewhat  analogous 
to  that  of  a  country  gentleman  of  fifty  years  ago ; 
they  do  no  work,  and  are  supported  in  considerable 
luxury  by  the  common  herd.  The  head  of  the 
family  came  to  call  on  the  British  Commission  in 
the  course  of  the  afternoon,  bringing  with  him  his 
ten -year -old  son,  a  particularly  handsome  and 
jolly-looking  boy.  Our  kit  was  not  yet  unpacked, 
and  no  cigarettes  could  be  found  to  offer  to  the 
visitor,  so  the  Commissioner's  cheroots  had  to  take 
their  place.  The  seyyid  took  one,  eyed  it  dubiously, 
and  lit  it,  but  evidently  found  it  not  at  all  to  his 
liking.     Being  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  commit 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (i)       69 

such  a  breach  of  manners  as  to  throw  it  away,  he 
solemnly  handed  it  on,  after  a  few  puffs,  to  the 
little  fellow  squatting  by  his  side.  The  urchin  was 
still  gleefully  puffing  at  his  cigar  five  minutes 
later  when  his  father  took  leave, — we  missed  the 
inevitable  sequel ! 

A  range  of  low^  hills  lay  behind  our  camp,  from 
the  top  of  which  one  had  a  magnificent  view  of  the 
country  lying  away  to  the  north.  The  Kerkha 
winds  through  it  in  a  hundred  graceful  loops  and 
curls,  and  waters  miles  upon  miles  of  splendid 
rolling  country.  Yet  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  the  only  sign  of  human  handiwork  was  a 
solitary  white  tomb.  At  first  it  seems  incredible 
that  such  a  tract  of  land  should  be  left  absolutely 
desert — a  sort  of  No  Man's  Land  ;  but  the  reason 
is  not  far  to  seek.  All  this  region  is  the  happy 
hunting  -  ground  of  the  Sagwand  and  the  Beni 
Lam,  two  of  the  most  predatory  tribes  in  Asia. 
The  Beni  Lam  have  their  headquarters  down  by 
the  Tigris,  near  Amara,  and  were  the  chief  Arab 
tribe  to  throw  in  their  lot  with  the  Turk  against 
us  in  the  present  campaign.  Seventy  years  ago 
they  enjoyed  the  following  unsavoury  reputation 
among  their  neighbours,  as  quoted  by  a  European 
traveller  through  their  country  :  "  The  Beni  Lam 
are  not  Arabs  but  Kafirs,  who  neither  respect  the 
laws  of  hospitality  nor  behave  in  any  way  as  good 
Mussulmans.  They  are  as  treacherous  as  they  are 
savage  and  cruel,  and  would  cut  the  throat  of  a 
guest  for  a  trifle."     The  cap  still  fits. 


yo  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

These  amiable  tribes  live  almost  exclusively  by 
plunder  and  rapine,  robbing  and  harrying  the  poor 
villagers,  till  the  latter  live  in  a  state  of  constant 
terror  of  them.  The  consequence  is  that  a  huge 
tract  of  extremely  fertile  country,  which  a  little 
labour  in  irrigating  would  make  as  productive  as 
any  in  the  world,  remains  barren  and  untouched. 
Only  a  week  before  our  arrival  the  Beni  Lam  had 
swooped  down  on  the  flocks  of  Kut  Said  AU  and 
driven  them  off.  They  had  avoided  actually  kill- 
ing the  boys  who  were  guarding  the  animals, 
because  they  do  not  like  the  inconvenience  of  a 
blood -feud,  but  in  order  to  delay  their  getting 
home  to  give  the  alarm,  they  had  taken  the  poor 
little  chaps  and  flogged  them  till  they  could 
hardly  walk. 

Once  or  twice  we  ourselves  were  taken  for  a 
raiding  party  by  shepherds  grazing  their  sheep  in 
the  plain.  As  soon  as  they  caught  sight  of  us, 
they  would  start  to  drive  their  flocks  helter- 
skelter  towards  the  nearest  village,  shouting  with 
all  their  might  and  firing  ofl*  their  guns  to  attract 
help  from  the  villagers.  On  the  first  occasion  I 
galloped  after  them  to  reassure  them — overtook 
them,  and  found  myself  looking  down  the  muzzle 
of  a  loaded  '450 — after  that  I  left  the  reassuring 
to  some  one  else  to  do ! 

One  day's  march  from  the  crossing  of  the 
Kerkha  brought  us  to  the  edge  of  the  Khor-el- 
Azem.     The  caravan  now  turned  ofl'  to  skirt  round 


.  ■    .  ,.;1 

"^'S*'  f«-'i^  -  ■ 

vMV    i 

^S^^  "■  ^-^y' 

'.  vjV-  ■■  '■-  ■■"  ■-'  ;    ■''.'■» 

Escort  Watering  Horses. 


House-buildins  in  Arabistan. 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (i)       71 

the  edge  of  the  marsh,  but  I  was  lucky  enough 
to  be  able  to  send  my  horse  round  with  the  main 
party  and  travel  myself  for  two  days  by  helem. 
The  marsh  scenery  is  wholly  unlike  anything  I 
have  seen  elsewhere,  and  hardly  less  unique  is  its 
population  of  queer  amphibious  beings  who  live 
among  their  swamps,  isolated  from  the  outside 
world,  and  earning  a  meagre  livelihood  by  growing 
rice  and  fishing. 

I  find  several  notes  in  my  diary,  made  during 
our  lazy  progress  down  the  stream,  which  I  think 
will  best  give  the  impression  of  what  the  journey 
was  like.     The  first  is  dated — 

Feb,  22,  noon.  —  We  are  floating  down  the 
Kerkha  in  a  helem.  Rather  a  tight  fit — nine 
persons  inside  !  It  is  a  primitive  tubby  variety 
of  the  helem,  with  a  tremendously  long  tapering 
bow  curving  back  so  as  to  give  to  the  boat  almost 
the  outline  of  a  Viking's  ship.  It  is  divided 
by  two  thwarts,  and  the  first-class  accommoda- 
tion amidships  is  occupied  by  the  Colonel,  myself, 
and  an  Arab  seyyid  with  a  bright  red  henna- 
stained  beard  and  a  limitless  capacity  for  making 
unpleasant  noises  and  soliciting  presents.  It's 
drowsy  work,  drifting  down  on  the  stream  with 
occasional  bursts  of  frenzied  energy  when  our 
belemjis  churn  the  water  with  their  paddles  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  then  relapse  into  idleness  and 
droning  Arab  songs.  The  boats  we  meet  coming 
up-stream  loaded  with  cut  reeds  are  tracked  by 


72  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

a  man  on  the  bank,  while  his  pal  sits  in  the 
stern  and  steers  the  bow  of  the  boat  out  from 
the  bank.  These  marshmen  wear  very  few  clothes 
and  are  burnt  nearly  black. 

2  P.M. — After  lunch  and  a  shoot  on  the  bank, 
which  is  full  of  frankolin  and  hares,  we  are  again 
paddling  down -stream.  The  boatmen  here  seem 
never  to  have  discovered  the  possibility  of  pad- 
dling one  on  each  side  of  the  boat ;  they  give  a 
few  strokes  together  on  the  bow  side,  then  swing 
over  and  do  the  same  on  stroke  side;  result — a 
very  zigzag  course  and  frequent  sprinklings  for 
the^  passengers.  The  river  banks  are  populated 
by  innumerable  tortoises,  who  sit  and  crane  their 
necks  at  us  as  we  go  by.  There  are  solemn 
cranes  standing  sentinel  here  and  there,  and 
kingfishers,  some  of  them  blue,  some  black  and 
white,  flitting  over  the  water.  We  have  just 
passed  the  queerest  group  of  birds  sitting  on 
the  bank.  There  were  about  half  a  dozen  of 
them,  very  grave  hunchback  creatures,  rather  like 
small  penguins,  but  without  any  of  the  penguin's 
cheerfulness.  They  reminded  me  of  a  party 
of  Scotch  elders  at  a  funeral,  as  they  stood 
there  silent  and  motionless  and  wearing  the  most 
dejected  air  imaginable.  One  had  a  gorgeous 
greeny-blue  back,  but  the  rest  were  in  sober  grey 
— perhaps  his  harim.  The  Arabs  say  they  are 
called  ivag,  and  only  the  Bedouins  eat  them. 

Later  {in  Camp). — We  have  arrived  at  Bisaitin, 
one    of  the    biggest   of  the    marsh   villages.      It 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (i)       73 

stretches  as  a  single  row  of  huts  for  miles  along 
each  bank  of  the  river,  with  side  streets  at  in- 
tervals on  canals  leading  off  the  main  stream. 
The  huts  are  long  and  narrow,  the  walls  consist 
of  bundles  of  reeds  about  six  feet  high,  partly 
sunk  into  the  ground  and  covered  with  a  "  barrel " 
roof  of  reed  mats ;  they  look  very  unlike  any 
house  you  ever  saw,  being  just  a  thick  sausage 
with  a  big  tuft  sticking  up  at  each  end  where 
the  uncut  tops  of  the  reed  bundles  are  allowed  to 
hang  over  above  the  roof.  Each  village  has  one  or 
two  mud  palaces  where  the  big- wigs  live,  and  all 
the  life  of  the  place  goes  on  on  the  waterways. 
Half-way  through  the  village  we  branched  oft 
down  a  side  canal,  came  to  a  place  where  it  broad- 
ened out  into  a  shallow  lake,  and  found  the  camp 
already  pitched  at  the  water's  edge,  so  sailed  right 
up  to  our  own  front  door. 

2Srd,  9  A.M. — Back  in  our  helem,  this  time  with 
W.  We  have  managred  at  last  to  dislodo^e  Red 
Beard  into  the  bows  and  can  stretch  our  legs. 
For  an  hour  we  slipped  past  an  endless  succes- 
sion of  reed -huts,  and  crowds  of  staring  Arabs 
and  naked  children  lining  the  bank,  very  inter- 
ested in  their  first  view  of  a  European — for  this  bit 
has  never  been  travelled  along  before,  as  far  as  we 
know.  Now  and  then  we  overtook  another  belem, 
and  had  animated  if  somewhat  unintelliofible  con- 
versations  with  the  occupants.  They  start  by 
saying,  "  There  are  some  terrible  fellows  up  the 
river  where  you  are  going  ;  they'll  cut  your  throats 


74  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

and  bash  your  heads  in"  (actions  to  suit).  We 
reply  by  pointing  to  our  guns,  and  they  clap 
hands  and  applaud  our  bravery.  Then  a  large 
hubble-bubble  is  passed  on  board  for  our  helemjis 
to  have  a  couple  of  sucks  at  while  we  inspect  their 
fish  tridents. 

A  mile  back  the  Kerkha  abruptly  came  to  an 
end  amidst  impenetrable  reeds,  and  seeing  no  way 
out,  we  thought  our  guides  had  deceived  us,  but 
the  marshmen  turned  out  in  force  and  pulled  and 
shoved  us  over  a  bar  into  a  hidden  canal  about  five 
feet  wide  and  full  of  other  helems.  It  was  a  mini- 
ature Boulter's  Lock,  and  we  shoved  and  cursed 
and  laughed  until  at  last  we  got  through,  and  are 
now  meandering  along  a  vague  channel  among  the 
reeds  which  looks  as  if  it  would  come  to  an  end 
at  every  corner.  We  have  taken  on  board  a  fine 
fish  which  some  men  we  passed  had  just  speared. 
I  forgot  to  mention  that  to-morrow's  dinner,  in 
the  shape  of  a  live  sheep,  is  tied  to  my  thwart, 
and  occasionally  butts  me  in  the  back  or  nibbles 
my  shoulder. 

10  A.M. — We  are  still  poling  and  paddling  along 
this,  extraordinary  channel,  only  a  few  feet  wide, 
with  a  sharp  turn  every  few  yards,  and  an  im- 
penetrable wall  of  rushes  six  feet  high  completely 
shutting  us  in,  so  that  all  one  can  see  is  the  sky 
and  a  few  yards  of  water  ahead  and  behind.  Two 
other  helems  follow  us,  paddled  by  men  cross- 
legged  in  the  bows  and  crooning  Arab  love-songs. 
One  hears  birds  but  sees  none,  and  it's  roasting 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (i)       75 

hot.     I  doubt  if  a  white  man  could  Uve  here  an 
hour  at  midday  in  summer. 

W.'s  wild  footman  is  sitting  behind  him,  a  man 
from  the  mountains,  who  illustrates  the  delight- 
fully characteristic  Persian  trait  of  telling  any 
sort  of  lie  to  please  his  listeners.  Whenever  Red 
Beard  says,  "It  is  so  many  miles  to  so  and  so," 
or,  "There  will  be  good  shooting  at  to-night's 
camp,"  the  Shatir  encores,  "Yes,  just  so  many 
miles,"  or,  "Splendid  shooting."  Of  course  he 
knows  we  know  he  has  just  come  from  Luristan, 
and  has  never  been  within  two  hundred  miles  of 
the  place  before,  but  that  doesn't  worry  him.  I 
have  just  overheard  W.,  in  reply  to  an  inquiry, 
explain  in  his  best  Persian  that  gamooses  do  not 
walk  about  the  streets  of  London  I 

Camp  at  Umm  Chir,  3  p.m. — We  paddled  for 
another  mile  through  the  reeds,  then  came  out 
into  a  laofoon  thick  with  water -fowl  of  half  a 
dozen  different  sorts,  with  the  desert  sloping  down 
to  it  beyond.  This  is  the  limit  of  the  marsh,  so 
we  waded  ashore  through  the  shallows  and  came 
on  a  mile  into  camp. 


76 


CHAPTER    V. 

THROUGH   THE   LAND    OF    ELAM   (2). 

What  I  may  describe  as  the  second  stage  of  the 
frontier  begfan  from  Umm  Chir.  We  now  had 
before  us  200  miles  of  pure  desert,  so  utterly  bare 
that  we  were  destined  to  travel  150  of  them  with- 
out seeing  a  trace  of  any  human  habitation.  The 
way  lay  along  the  edge  of  the  great  Mesopotamian 
plain,  a  bare  arid  track,  watered  only  by  the 
scanty  streams  which  come  off  the  Eastern  water- 
shed of  the  Luristan  mountains  and  flow  down 
to  the  marshes  which  fringe  the  bank  of  the 
Tigris.  A  fair  description  of  this  region  was  left 
by  a  member  of  the  Frontier  Commission  of 
1849-52  in  the  following  words  :  "It  is  extremely 
difficult  country  to  travel  through  on  account  of  the 
absence  of  habitations,  the  danger  of  attacks  from 
the  Beni  Lam  Arabs  from  the  Tigris  side,  and  the 
Lurs  from  the  directions  of  the  mountains,  and  the 
brackish  and  pitchy  water  which  is  hardly  fit  for 
use  in  winter  and  is  quite  undrinkable  in  summer. 
This  country  has  no  boundaries  but  the  Tigris  on 
the  west  and  the  Luristan  mountains  on  the  east. 


A  Lur  Tent. 


Sus  Persica. 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (2)       77 

The  banks  of  the  river  are  inhabited  by  the  Beni 
Lam,  the  interior  of  the  mountains  by  the  Lurs  ; 
the  strip  of  desert  serves  as  a  line  where  these 
peoples  meet,  a  kind  of  neutral  ground  on  which 
they  sometimes  fight  each  other  and  sometimes 
fraternise,  but  they  are  always  ready  to  plunder 
a  traveller,  so  that  caravans  never  dare  to  travel 
these  remons."  The  old  Commission  seem  to  have 
had  a  wholesome  respect  for  these  brigand  tribes. 
They — that  is  the  Enghsh, Russians,  and  Persians — 
took  provisions  for  sixteen  days,  loaded  107  camels 
with  forage,  armed  all  their  servants  and  followers, 
"  so  that  the  whole  thing  had  the  appearance  of  a 
military  expedition,"  and  practically  made  a  dash 
for  it.  Troops  of  robbers,  they  relate,  stealthily 
followed  the  caravan,  and  there  were  alarms  and 
shots  in  the  camp  almost  every  night.  So  harassed 
were  they  that  they  were  only  able  to  make  a  very 
rough  map  of  this  part,  calculating  the  distances 
by  the  length  of  a  horse's  step.  The  result  of  all 
this  was  that  from  near  Umm  Chir  to  Mendeli  not 
even  an  approximate  line  of  frontier  could  be  laid 
down  beforehand  by  the  Ambassadors  and  the 
Grand  Vizier  at  Constantinople,  and  so  there  fell 
to  our  Commission  the  work  not  only  of  its  demar- 
cation but  also  of  the  delimitation  itself  The  only 
principle  to  guide  the  Commissioners  in  settling  a 
line  was  the  status  quo  frontier.  But  this  did  not 
help  very  materially  in  a  region  where  there  was 
scarcely  a  living  soul  to  tell  where  the  recognised 
line  was,  even  if,  as  was  more  than  doubtful,  a  line 
ever  had  been  recognised.     Some  shepherds  were 


yS  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

at  last  found  feeding  a  meagre  flock  of  goats  in  the 
desert,  and  were  hailed  with  alacrity  before  the 
Commission  and  questioned. 

"  Whose  country  are  you  feeding  your  goats 
in  ?  "  they  were  asked. 

"Allah's,"  they  replied,  nor  could  any  other 
information  be  got  out  of  them. 

The  Turks  and  Persians,  advancing  very 
divergent  claims,  could  come  to  no  understand- 
ing about  the  matter,  so  eventually  Anglo- Russian 
arbitration  was  invoked  and  the  frontier  line  fixed 
for  the  next  80  miles  ahead. 

All  this,  of  course,  took  some  days,  during  which 
we  were  able  to  explore  the  sporting  possibilities 
of  the  neighbourhood.  Game  were  fairly  plentiful 
and  varied.  Large  herds  of  gazelle  were  reported 
by  the  Indian  Surveyors  returning  from  plane- 
tabling,  but  our  pack-mules,  scattering  for  miles 
around  in  search  of  grazing,  and  accompanied  as 
always  by  their  bells,  spoiled  our  chances  of  venison 
for  dinner.  Then  there  were  hares,  frankolin, 
sand-grouse,  and  bustard,  the  last  splendid  birds, 
as  big  as  young  turkeys,  and  most  succulent 
eating,  but  almost  as  wild  and  unapproachable  as 
the  gazelle.  Great  numbers  of  wild  pig  lived  near 
the  edge  of  the  marsh,  spending  the  daytime  in 
the  marsh  itself  and  returning  in  the  evening  to 
the  dry  broken  country  behind  our  camp.  My 
first  introduction  to  Sus  persica  was  of  a  quite 
dramatic  nature.  We  had  just  finished  lunch,  and 
I  was  standing  talking  with  a  Russian  officer  in 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (2)       79 

the  camp  when  a  clatter  of  hoofs  made  us  look 
round.  There  was  a  mounted  Arab  galloping 
wildly  through  the  camp  and  driving  two  large 
boars  in  front  of  him.  The  pair  came  trotting  in 
among  the  tents  with  such  a  nonchalant  air  that 
I  had  for  a  moment  the  absurd  idea  that  they 
must  be  tame  animals.  Not  for  long,  however,  for 
as  soon  as  they  reached  the  Arab  encampment  all 
its  occupants  turned  out  with  yells  and  guns  and 
commenced  a  tremendous  fusillade  at  point-blank 
range.  The  luckless  beasts  had  to  run  the  gauntlet 
for  about  50  yards  under  a  withering  cross-fire, 
but  came  out  unscathed  at  the  end,  and  got  safely 
away  into  their  native  marsh.  Nor,  mirabile  dictu, 
were  there  any  casualties  among  their  reckless 
aggressors. 

One  day  the  shooting- bag  included  a  wild  cat,  a 
splendid  specimen,  measuring  just  over  4  feet  from 
tip  to  tip,  whose  skin  went,  with  our  other  speci- 
mens of  Persian  fauna,  to  the  Bombay  Natural 
History  Museum.  Another  martyr  to  science  was 
an  enormous  horned  owl,  who  measured  4  feet 
6  inches  across  the  wings.  Lastly,  I  must  not 
forget  to  include  those  most  ubiquitous  of  subter- 
raneous pests,  the  jerboa  rats.  Individually  they 
are  the  most  fascinating  of  little  creatures,  with 
their  big  eyes  and  preposterous  long  tufted  tails, 
but  collectively  they  are  nothing  short  of  a  public 
nuisance.  The  whole  country  was  honeycombed 
with  their  burrowings,  made  worse  by  the  small- 
ness   of   the   entrance   holes,   so   that    you   could 


8o  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

never  tell  at  what  moment  the  ground  would 
give  way  under  your  horse's  hoofs ;  luckily  it 
was  soft  falling. 

The  frontier,  as  finally  settled,  was  to  follow 
for  thirty  miles  or  so  the  course  of  a  dried-up 
river-bed,  called  the  Shatt  el  Amma,  or  "blind 
stream."  This  seemed  straightforward  enough, 
but  the  sequel  exemplified  well  the  troubles  of 
frontier  making.  The  marsh  by  whose  edge  we 
were  encamped  had  originally  spread  a  good  deal 
farther  west,  and  in  receding  had  left  behind  some 
square  miles  of  country  which  looked  like  nothing 
on  earth  so  much  as  a  dislocated  jig-saw  puzzle. 
The  bits  of  the  puzzle  were  represented  by  tussocks 
of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  about  18  inches  high, 
and  formed  of  the  roots  of  long- dead  reed  clumps ; 
in  and  between  them  ran  a  perfect  network  of 
narrow,  deep-cut  channels,  and  somewhere  through 
the  middle  of  all  this  was  the  Shatt  el  Amma. 
However,  the  survey  officers  managed  somehow 
to  unravel  the  problem,  though  several  times  the 
river-bed  was  so  completely  lost  that  the  onlv 
thing  to  do  was  to  put  up  a  frontier-pillar  where 
it  disappeared  and  then  cast  ahead,  to  pick  it  up 
again  perhaps  a  mile  farther  on. 

Our  next  halting -place  was  to  be  the  river 
Douerij,  but  before  we  reached  it  we  were  met  bv 
the  news  that  the  Beni  Lam  had  succeeded  in 
stealing  three  troop-horses  belonging  to  a  small 
party  of  soivars  who  had  gone  on  ahead.  This  was 
our  first,  but  by  no  means  our  last,  experience  of 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (2)       81 

the  attention  of  this  clan  of  accompHshed  robbers. 
Before  we  were  quit  of  their  country  the  toll  they 
had  levied  on  the  joint  four  Commissions  included 
a  dozen  or  so  mules,  a  horse  (the  troop-horses  were 
eventually  recovered),  four  camels,  loads  and  all 
(luckily  for  us,  and  much  to  the  disgust,  I  should 
imagine,  of  their  captors,  these  consisted  chiefly 
of  cement  for  boundary-pillars),  and,  last  but  not 
least,  the  Russian  Commissioner's  uniform  frock- 
coat,  stolen  brazenly  from  his  own  tent. 

The  Douerij,  when  we  reached  it,  turned  out 
to  be  a  fast-running  stream  fifty  or  sixty  yards 
wide  flowino-  at  a  level  far  below  the  desert 
between  precipitous  mud  cliffs.  We  camped  by  a 
ford,  and  crossed  in  pouring  rain  next  day.  The 
ford  was  nearly  five  feet  deep,  and  the  charvadars 
were  only  induced  to  attempt  the  crossing  by 
the  persuasive  influence  of  our  deputy  transport 
officer,  who,  clothed  in  a  streaming  shirt  and 
much  fine  language,  and  armed  with  a  convinc- 
ing shillelagh,  refused  to  argue  the  matter.  A 
serviceable  raft  was  constructed  of  blown -out 
water-skins  and  sowars'  lances  which  took  the 
tents  and  heavier  loads,  while  the  men  portered 
over  the  rest.  The  river  meanwhile  was  rapidly 
rising  and  the  rain  continued  to  fall  in  torrents, 
so,  forsaking  the  river's  edge,  we  camped  on  a 
broad  ledge  half-way  up  the  further  bank.  All 
that  day  and  the  following  night  the  storm  kept 
on,  and  though  by  the  morning  the  sun  had  re- 
asserted   itself,    the    river    was    now    a    swirling, 

F 


82  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

raging  flood  of  chocolate-coloured  water  covered 
with  foam,    uprooted  bushes,   and   the  debris    of 
trees   brought    down    from   the    mountains.      We 
were   quietly   taking  photographs   at    the    river's 
edge   when  a  shout    from  the    camp  brought    us 
back,    to   find    that    the    water    had    encroached 
unobserved  from  the  rear  and  was   on  the  point 
of  flooding  us  out.     The  bank  behind  our  ledge 
was  a  good  ten  feet  high  and  nearly  perpendicular, 
so  there  was   no  time  to  lose.      The  tent's  ropes 
were  thrown  ofl*  and  down  came  the  big  "  Hudson 
Eaotis,"  each  of  them  a  full  five  mules'   load  on 
march,  with  a  run  into  several  inches  of  mud  and 
water.     There    was  no  time  to   even  detach   the 
flies,  but    thirty  men    pulling   for  all   they  were 
worth  from  the  top  of  the  bank  just  hauled  them 
up  soon  enough  to  avert  disaster.     Half  an  hour 
later  our  quondam  camping-ground  was  only  dis- 
tinguishable from  the  rest  of  the  river  by  a  few 
tops  of  bushes  bending  to  the  flood.     Our  Persian 
friends,  camped  on  the  other  bank  a  little  way 
back  from  the  edge,  had  had  a  good  laugh  at  us, 
but  it  was  soon  to  be  our  turn  to  smile.     As  the 
volume    of   water    increased,   the    soft   mud    clifl*, 
pounded  against  from  below,  began  to  undermine, 
and  presently   huge    masses   of   it  were  crashing 
periodically    into    the    river    with    a    noise    like 
thunder.     The  Persians  packed  up  hurriedly  and 
took    to    the    hills.      By    tea-time,   however,   the 
tables  had   turned  on  us  again.     Our  new  camp 


Saving  the  Tents. 


Ibrahim. 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (2)       83 

was  on  the  general  level  of  the  plain,  and  at  first 
it  seemed  preposterous  to  suppose  we  were  still 
in  danger,  yet  the  river  rose  inch  by  inch  and 
was  now  over  twenty  feet  above  its  level  of  two 
days  before,  and  had  changed  from  a  fair-sized 
stream  to  a  river  almost  the  size  of  the  Thames 
and  three  times  as  rapid.  By  five  o'clock  there 
was  only  three  feet  of  ''freeboard"  left,  and  the 
rate  of  rise  was  six  inches  every  half-hour,  so  we 
resigned  ourselves  to  the  inevitable,  called  in  the 
mules,  and  trekked  to  the  nearest  hills.  We  got 
little  sleep  that  night  for  the  booming  which 
announced  every  few  minutes  the  collapse  of 
another  few  hundred  tons  of  the  river's  banks. 
On  the  third  morning  the  water-level,  which  had 
reached  during  the  night  to  within  two  inches  of 
the  desert,  began  to  subside,  and  we  ceased  to 
feel  like  Noah's  wicked  contemporaries  driven 
higher  and  higher  each  day  by  the  flood.  The 
river  was  still  tremendous — the  most  irresistible, 
devastating  thing,  I  think,  I  ever  saw  ;  but  as  no 
human  beings  live  near  its  banks  it  did  nobody 
but  ourselves  any  harm,  and  being  on  the  right 
side  of  it,  we  could  afford  to  speculate  with 
interest  how  our  friends  on  the  yonder  bank 
would  set  about  to  negotiate  the  crossing.  For 
two  days  we  were  entirely  cut  off  from  inter- 
course ;  but  on  the  third,  when  the  waters  had 
abated  to  reasonable  proportions,  there  arrived  a 
large   helem  borne   on    the  backs   of  two   much- 


84  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

endurino;  mules  which  the  Turks  had  sent  down 
to  Amara  for  the  purpose,  and  on  the  fourth  day 
we  were  once  more  united. 

The  result  of  the  flood  might  have  provided  an 
interesting  study  for  a  geologist.     So  tremendous 
had  been  the  undercutting  action  of  the  current, 
that  in   places  the  river  had  demolished   a   strip 
of  the  desert  twice  or  three  times  its  own  breadth, 
and  so  created  an  entirely  new  channel  for  itself. 
The  sight  made  one  speculate  on  the  accumulated 
effect  of  such  floods  as  this  over  the  space  of  a 
few  seons.     The    analogy  of  Noah,   by  the   way, 
was    a    closer   one    than    might    at    first    appear. 
There  is  a  theory,  propounded,  if  I  am  not   mis- 
taken, by  Sir  William  Willcocks,  that  the  flood 
of  the  Book  of  Genesis  actually  consisted  in  the 
water  rising  (as  it  so  nearly  did  in  our  case)  above 
the  general  desert   level — a    condition   of  afl'airs 
which  the  great  engineer  believed  would  be  the 
natural  result  of  the  simultaneous  occurrence   of 
the    following    phenomena :    a   big   spate    on  the 
Euphrates,  the  same  on  the  Tigris,  and  a  strong 
south  wind  blowing  for  several  days  on   end  up 
the  Persian  Gulf  and  so  banking  up  the  waters 
of  the  combined  rivers.     There  is  even  a  slightly 
raised  eminence  near  Bagdad  which,  it  is  claimed, 
would  be  the  only  part  of  Mesopotamia  left  un- 
submerged,  and  so  may  reasonably  be  identified 
with  the  Mount  Ararat  on  which  the  ark  stranded. 
It  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  add  that  the  17,000- 
foot  mountain  which  bears  that  name  on  the  map 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (2)       85 

was  so   christened   in  comparatively  recent  times 
by  devout  but  imaginative  Armenians. 

We  were  kept  in  continual  remembrance  of 
our  adventure  on  the  Douerij  for  some  days  after 
we  had  left  it  behind  us  for  good.  Somehow 
during  the  bustle  and  confusion  of  our  sudden 
and  unpremeditated  flittings  the  flour  and  the 
kerosene  had  found  themselves  in  close  proximity 
to  each  other — and  had  joined  forces.  No  matter 
how  sturdy  an  appetite  one  brought  to  one's 
dinner,  the  first  bite  of  chupattie  banished  it  for 
the  rest  of  the  meal.  Let  me  utter  to  all 
travellers  a  most  solemn  warning,  prompted  by 
the  bitterest  experience,  that  however  excellent 
the  two  constituents  may  be,  each  in  its  own 
sphere,  as  a  combination  they  are  not  a  success. 

The  Luristan  mountains,  as  we  gradually  con- 
verged towards  them,  grew  more  and  more  for- 
bidding, their  outline  against  the  Eastern  sky 
becoming  a  grim  chain  of  rugged  peaks  and 
precipices.  At  the  Douerij  we  were  still  many 
miles  away  from  the  main  range  (of  which  this 
section  bears  the  name  of  Kebir  Kuh,  or  "  great 
mountains  "),  but  had  reached  the  low  sandy  foot- 
hills which  encroach  far  into  the  plain,  and  formed, 
from  now  on,  the  frontier  line. 

We  were  already  in  the  month  of  March,  and  the 
hollows  among  the  hills  were  gay  with  the  spring 
flowers  which  crop  up  in  places  even  in  the  most 
uncompromising   deserts    at    this    season    of   the 


86  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

year ;  gentians  and  cuckoo-spit,  and  a  flower  like 
a  large  scentless  cowslip  lined  the  bed  of  dry 
nullahs,  and  every  here  and  there  a  thick  carpet 
of  anemones  added  a  glorious  splash  of  crimson. 

It  was  about  this  time  we  fell  in  with  old 
Ibrahim.  He  appeared  in  camp  one  day  ap- 
parently from  nowhere — for  we  must  have  been  a 
good  hundred  miles  from  the  nearest  village — and 
never  left  us  again  till  the  journey's  end.  His 
own  account  of  himself  was  as  follows.  He  was 
an  Indian  born  at  Bombay,  and  had  accompanied 
his  father  to  Bagdad  at  the  tender  age  of  five  ; 
there  he  grew  up  and  prospered  till,  like  many 
of  his  fellow -men  in  colder  climes,  he  came  to 
ruin  over  horses.  A  speculative  shipment  of 
ponies  to  India  went  wrong  and  left  him  penni- 
less, so  he  became  a  pedlar,  and  had  spent  a  life- 
time hawking  his  wares  from  Bagdad  to  Erzeroum. 
Having  passed  many  times,  as  he  said,  along  the 
route  which  lay  before  the  Commission,  and 
knowing  the  language  and  customs  of  the  different 
tribes  w^e  should  meet,  he  proposed  his  services 
as  a  sort  of  walking  Baedeker,  and  as  he  was  a 
hardy  old  fellow  despite  his  eighty  years,  and 
asked  for  nothing  more  than  his  food  and  foot- 
gear, he  was  duly  enrolled.  Later  on  he  so  far 
justified  his  claim  to  intimacy  with  the  tribes, 
that  he  turned  out  to  have  married,  at  one  stage 
or  another  of  his  peddling  career,  a  wife  from 
nearly  every  one  of  them  in  turn ! 

His   debut   as   a   guide,    however,    very    nearly 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (2)       87 

sealed  his  fate  as  far  as  the  Commission  was 
concerned.  We  had  camped  about  twenty  -  five 
miles  short  of  the  river  Tyb,  our  next  place  of 
rendezvous,  and  two  of  us,  Captain  Wilson  and 
myself,  set  out  with  a  small  party  in  advance  to 
locate  the  ford.  Ibrahim,  asserting  that  he  knew 
exactly  where  it  was,  came  as  guide.  A  few  miles 
out  from  camp  we  caught  sight,  to  the  south  of 
us,  of  the  ruins  of  Shahriz,  one  of  the  multitude 
of  dead  cities  scattered  throughout  this  corner  of 
the  world,  the  birth-  and  burial-place  of  so  many 
ancient  civilisations.  Nothing  is  to  be  learnt  of 
their  history,  save  in  the  case  of  the  few  great 
excavated  sites  like  Susa,  Babylon,  and  Nineveh, 
and  the  traveller,  unable  to  so  much  as  guess  to 
which  civilisation  each  belonged,  can  only  wonder 
at  their  size  and  the  utterness  of  their  destruc- 
tion. When,  if  ever,  these  regions  emerge  from 
beneath  the  pall  of  their  present  desolation,  what 
a  playground  for  archaeologists  they  will  be ! 
There  is,  I  think,  a  special  fascination  in  walk- 
ing the  silent  streets  of  a  dead  city,  and  though 
we  knew  from  Layard  that  there  was  nothing 
above  ground  to  see,  we  left  the  caravan  to 
continue  its  way,  and  branched  off  to  visit  the 
site.  We  found  there  the  well-defined  remains 
of  a  town  about  a  mile  in  diameter,  surrounded 
by  a  rampart  and  a  moat.  Among  a  sea  of  shape- 
less heaps  the  lines  of  the  principal  streets  were 
still  traceable,  leading  up,  in  the  centre  of  the 
town,    to    a    mound    of   extra    large    size    which 


88  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

covers,  no  doubt,  the  ruins  of  some  sort  of 
citadel.  A  profusion  of  scraps  of  broken  pottery 
covered  with  a  rich  blue  glaze,  lying  scattered 
everywhere,  were  all  that  time  and  the  wander- 
ing Bedouin  had  left  to  bear  witness  to  man's 
handiwork. 

We  rode  away  from  the  city  of  the  dead,  in- 
tending to  intercept  our  caravan  a  few  miles 
ahead.  It  was  only  after  an  hour's  galloping, 
however,  that  the  familiar  line  of  creeping  black 
dots  appeared,  emerging  from  a  shallow  depres- 
sion in  the  desert  a  long  way  off.  Presently  they 
were  lost  to  view  again  behind  some  low  bushes, 
whence,  to  our  surprise,  they  did  not  reappear. 
We  had  come  to  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of 
the  spot,  when  a  shot  suddenly  rang  out  from 
the  bushes  and  brought  us  to  an  abrupt  halt. 
A  head  looked  out  a  moment  later,  and  its  owner 
having  satisfied  himself  apparently  of  our  pacific 
intent,  he  and  his  companions  emerged  from  their 
ambush.  What  we  had  taken  for  our  caravan 
proved  to  be  a  party  of  four  or  five  Lurs  return- 
ing to  their  native  mountains  from  a  "  shopping 
expedition"  in  the  Tigris  valley — of  a  very  up- 
to-date  nature,  to  judge  by  the  huge  gramophone 
trumpet  which  was  balanced  precariously  on  the 
top  of  one  of  their  mules'  loads.  The  shot  they 
had  fired  was  merely  the  usual  greeting  accorded 
to  a  stranger  in  their  part  of  the  world,  and  im- 
plied no  particular  ill-will  on  their  part ;  in  fact, 
once  it  was  established  that  we  w^ere  not  robbers 


An  "  Easy. 


The  Author  and  "Archibald." 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (2)       89 

ourselves,  and  were  too  well  armed  to  be  con- 
veniently robbed,  our  relations  became  of  the 
friendliest. 

Taking  leave  of  our  Lur  friends  after  a  little 
mutual  gossip,  with  greater  cordiality  than  had 
signalised  our  meeting,  we  hurried  on  to  the  Tyb, 
where  we  found  the  ford  but  no  caravan.  The 
latter  had  been  led  hopelessly  astray  by  the 
trusted  Ibrahim,  and  did  not  make  its  reappear- 
ance till  two  days  later,  leaving  us  foodless,  and 
with  no  alternative  than  to  face  the  weary  jour- 
ney back  to  camp  again.  It  was  on  the  return 
ride,  just  as  it  was  growing  dusk,  that  we  came 
upon  a  large  herd  of  a  hundred  or  more  gazelle, 
who  gave  a  touching  proof  of  their  ignorance  of 
the  human  genus  by  quietly  trotting  along  m 
front  of  us  for  a  mile  or  so,  within  the  easiest 
range — an  ignorance  which,  I  am  glad  to  say, 
we  were  too  weary  to  dispel. 

The  Tyb,  at  the  point  where  we  intersected  it, 
is  a  very  different  affair  to  the  sullen  Douerij 
flowing  through  its  deep-cut  trench  in  the  desert. 
Fed  by  the  snowfields  of  the  Kebir  Kuh  forty 
miles  away,  it  arrives  at  the  low  line  of  hills 
which  form  the  last  outposts  of  the  range  in 
all  the  vigour  of  youth,  and  flows  impetuously 
through  the  channel  it  has  hewn  for  itself  before 
spreading  out  lazily  in  the  Mesopotamian  plain.  ^ 

The  hills  here  are  composed  of  a  curious  reddish 
niud  — hence  their  name  of  Jebel  Hamrine,  or 
the   "Red    Mountains  "—which   lends   itself  par- 


go  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

ticularly  well  to  the  plastic  forces  of  the  stream. 
You  find  yourself  in  a  miniature  reproduction  of 
Swiss  mountains  —  little  Jungfraus  and  Matter- 
horns  100  feet  high  surround  you,  so  steep  that 
they  would  be  quite  unscaleable  if  it  were  not 
for  the  peculiar  consistency  of  the  red  mud  which 
gives  your  feet  an  excellent  grip.  The  river  runs 
in  a  deep  gorge,  whose  sides  have  been  sculptured 
in  places  into  the  semblance  of  gigantic  architec- 
tural masses.  One  such  mass,  in  particular,  situ- 
ated at  a  bend  of  the  river,  has  been  carved  by 
nature  into  the  form  of  a  great  cathedral  em- 
bedded in  the  face  of  the  cliff,  the  apse  and  part 
of  the  nave,  with  roof  complete,  emerging  with 
almost  perfect  truth  of  outline  from  the  sheer 
wall  of  clay.  These  cliffs  are  the  haunt  of  wild 
pigeons,  and  happening  in  the  evening  to  have 
climbed  to  the  top  of  a  hill  in  search  of  them, 
I  was  rewarded  with  one  of  the  most  vivid  colour 
effects  I  ever  saw.  The  sun,  just  on  the  point 
of  setting,  broke  for  a  moment  from  beneath  a 
bank  of  heavy  clouds  hanging  above  the  horizon. 
The  moment  it  did  so  the  mud  peaks  and  cliffs 
all  round  were  transformed  by  a  quite  indescrib- 
able glow  of  red  gold,  emphasised  the  more  by  the 
blackness  of  the  valleys  between,  while  at  the 
same  time  the  big  mountains  beyond  were  flushed 
by  the  softest  purple  light.  A  minute  later  the 
sun  dipped  below  the  horizon,  and  the  colours 
faded  as  quickly  as  they  had  come,  leaving  noth- 
ing but  dim  grey  landscape  behind.     It  gave  one 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (2)       91 

almost  the  sensation  as  if  a  coloured  limelight  had 
been  thrown  for  an  instant  across  a  darkened 
stage  and  then  as  swiftly  withdrawn. 

Beyond  the  river  the  hills  open  out  into  a  broad 
bay  of  terraced  grass  slopes,  and  there  our  tents 
were  pitched,  while  the  noisy  mules  and  followers 
were  banished  to  humbler  planes  below.  The 
weather  meanwhile  was  perfect  and  the  shoot- 
ing very  fair.  For  wayworn  travellers  like  our- 
selves it  seemed  an  ideal  resting-place,  yet  on 
the  third  day  the  Commission  fled  from  this 
delectable  spot  as  from  a  city  stricken  with  the 
plague.  The  cause  of  our  precipitous  flight  was 
none  other  than  the  Tyb  itself.  Its  rather  pecu- 
liar flavour  had  been  noticeable  from  the  first, 
but  it  was  not  until  half  the  camp  was  sorely 
stricken,  and  the  doctor  analysed  the  water,  that 
it  was  known  for  what  it  was— an  exceedingly 
potent  solution  of  Epsom  Salts ! 

The  question  of  water  is,  of  course,  a  primary 
one  for  travellers  in  the  country  we  were  passing 
through,  and  one's  degree  of  comfort  or  discomfort 
in  camp  varies  in  pretty  direct  ratio  with  the 
goodness  or  badness  of  the  water  supply.  For 
an  example  of  possible  extremes,  I  need  not  go 
further  than  our  experiences  at  our  next  two 
camping-grounds  after  we  left  the  banks  of  the 
"father  of  Epsom  Salts."  The  first  camp  was  at 
Kara  Tepeh,  a  huge  solitary  mound  in  the  flat 
desert,  quarried  with  jackal's  holes  and  Bedouin 
graves,   and   hiding   Allah -knows -what  long-for- 


92  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

gotten  ruins.  At  the  foot  of  the  mound  there  are 
half  a  dozen  shallow  wells.  A  thick  green  scum 
is  all  you  can  see  when  you  look  down  them,  but 
skilful  manipulation  of  a  bucket  will  bring  up  a 
small  quantity  of  thick  fluid  of  the  precise  colour 
and  consistency  of  cafe  au  lait,  and  only  recog- 
nisable as  water  by  the  presence  in  it  of  millions 
of  tadpoles.  We  did  not  prolong  our  stay  at 
Kara  Tepeh  !  The  very  next  camp  carried  us,  as 
I  say,  to  the  other  extreme.  We  were  still  on 
the  edge  of  the  same  arid  desert,  though  a  little 
nearer  the  hills,  and  close  by  the  camp,  hemmed 
in  between  high  cliffs,  ran  the  j oiliest  little  brook 
imaginable,  rollicking  down  over  a  pebble-strewn 
bed,  and  spreading  out  every  here  and  there  into 
a  quiet  deep  pool  full  of  darting  fish,  and  clear 
as  crystal.  Such  luck  is,  however,  rare,  and  even 
here  we  should  probably  have  found  nothing  but 
a  dry  nullah  if  we  had  come  a  few  weeks  later. 
It  may  not  be  amiss,  before  closing  this  chapter, 
to  give  some  account  of  our  caravan  and  our 
mode  of  life  in  the  desert.  From  the  first,  though 
the  hot  weather  had  not  yet  begun,  we  adopted 
a  summer  time-table,  getting  up  on  marching  days 
an  hour  before  sunrise.  During  January  at  least 
this  meant  a  shivering  breakfast  by  either  moon- 
or  candle-light  in  the  open,  for  the  mess-tent, 
packed  up  over  night,  went  on  ahead  with  the 
^ishhar,  a  small  advance  party  which,  following 
Persian  custom,  preceded  the  main  caravan  by  an 
hour  or  so.     While   we  consumed  our  coffee  and 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (2)       93 

dhal-hdt    the    mules    were    loaded    up,    a   fairly 
tedious  business  even  when  confusion  was  reduced 
to  a  minimum  by  each  mule  being  labelled  in  large 
letters  with  the  initials  of  the  owner  of  his  load. 
There  are   as  many  different   ways   of  loading  a 
mule    as   of  cooking   an   egg,  and    the  particular 
system  favoured  by  Persian  muleteers  is,  I  believe, 
peculiar  to  themselves.     Every  mule  has,  as  part 
of  his  equipment,  a  length  of  stout  woollen  stuff 
about   three  feet  by  nine,  with   cord-laces  along 
the    ends    and  corresponding    eyelet   holes.      The 
beast's  load  is  divided  up  into  three  parts,  two 
equal  ones   of  roughly   80  lb.  each,  and  a  third, 
preferably  some  small  and  compact  object,  of  about 
50    lb.      The    long    piece    of    stuff   having    been 
spread  out  on  the  ground,  the   two  bulkier  lots 
are  laid  on  it,  one  on  each  side  of  the  middle,  and 
the  ends  turned  over  and  laced  up  in  such  a  way 
as  to  form  a  sort  of  double  valise.     Then  comes 
the  tug-of-war.     The  charvadar  ties  his  animal's 
bead-rope  round  his  own  Avaist,  and,  aided  by  a 
comrade,  hoists  the  load  up  against  the  flank  of 
the  mule,  who  is  encouraged  by  loud  and  violent 
objurgations   to  lean   his  weight  against  it,  thus 
allowing  one-half  to  be  toppled  across  his  back  so 
as  to  fall  on  the  farther  side.     This  part  of  the 
loading    process    obviously    implies    the    goodwill 
and  co-operation  of  the   mule  himself,  and  it   is 
really  surprising  to   see  how   seldom  the  appeal 
to  his  better  nature  fails.     When  the  two  loads 
have  been  well  adjusted  in  equilibrium,  the  third 


94  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

part — the  sar-i-har  as  it  Is  called — is  hoisted  ou 
top  between  the  other  two,  and  a  long  woollen 
girth  having  been  thrown  over  the  loads,  passed 
under  the  beast's  belly  and  hauled  as  tight  as  the 
charvadar  can  pull,  the  mule  is  ready  for  the 
road.  Despite  the  unadaptable  qualities  of  such 
objects  as  tin  baths,  helmet  cases,  and  9 -foot  tent 
poles,  it  was  comparatively  rare  for  a  mule  to 
shift  his  load. 

The  caravan  on  march  stretched  for  three  or 
four  miles  across  the  plain,  split  up  into  groups 
of  ten  or  twenty  mules,  with  a  sprinkling  of 
sowars  along  the  line  to  ward  against  attack,  and 
a  rearguard  to  encourage  stragglers. 

In  the  cool  dawn  it  was  very  pleasant  to  give 
one's  horse  his  head  and  gallop  from  end  to  end 
of  the  whole  line,  the  chiming  of  the  mule-bells 
in  your  ears  waxing  and  waning  as  you  overtook 
group  after  group  of  the  plodding  beasts.  It  was 
amusing,  too,  to  watch,  as  one  passed,  the  queer 
variety  of  types  which  went  to  make  up  the  long 
column  —  the  easy -striding  jillou-dars  in  their 
much-patched,  long-skirted  coats,  shawl  cummer- 
bunds, and  full  bell -mouthed  trousers ;  the  more 
important  mule-owners  on  their  neat  Arab  mares, 
looking  particularly  light  by  the  side  of  the 
Lancers'  big  walers  and  Indian  "  country-breds  "  ; 
the  kholassis  in  business-like  khaki  and  puttees, 
carrying  fragile  theodolites,  tripods,  and  other 
survey  instruments ;  the  green  -  liveried  mess- 
servants,  the  Goanese  butler  and  his  colleague  the 


\^^^ 

mMii*.k-i^ 

Nearing  Camp 


The  Mail  arrives. 


Through  the  Land  of  Elam  (2)       95 

cook,  the  local  Arab  guide,  the  shdtir, — but  the 
shdtir  deserves  a  paragraph  to  himself. 

Persian  custom  prescribes  that  a  gentleman  of 
rank  on  his  travels  shall  be  preceded  on  all 
occasions  by  a  shdtir  or  running  footman,  and  the 
British  Commissioner  was  accordingly  provided 
with  this  functionary.  He  was  a  Lur  of  fine 
physique  but  singularly  mournful  countenance, 
and,  arrayed  in  a  frock-coat  braided  with  scarlet 
and  gold,  he  marched  through  the  desert  ahead 
of  his  master's  horse  with  all  the  dignified 
solemnity  of  an  Esquire  Bedell  conducting  the 
Vice-Chancellor  to  Great  St  Mary's.  Anywhere 
else  his  fantastic  figure  would  have  struck  a  note 
of  comedy ;  but  in  Persia  one  loses  one's  sense 
of  the  incongruous,  so  universal  is  incongruity. 

But  I  must  complete  my  interrupted  list  of 
fellow-travellers  by  mentioning  three  last  char- 
acters:  "Mick,"  the  doctor's  puppy,  who,  still  too 
young  for  long  marches,  rode  upon  his  own  mule 
perched  up  in  front  of  his  master's  bearer ; 
"  Azaphela,"  the  most  diminutive  of  dachshunds, 
who  travelled  in  a  little  cage  carefully  designed 
by  her  owner.  Captain  Dyer ;  and  last  of  all,  two 
small  white  cocks  (adopted  in  infancy  by  our  O.C. 
Escort),  whose  lusty  voices  and  martial  ardour  at 
the  end  of  a  long  day's  march  were  not  a  whit 
impaired  by  their  having  performed  the  journey 
in  a  bucket  sluno;  over  a  mule's  back. 

The  average  length  of  our  daily  march  was 
twenty  miles,  and  as  this  meant  six  hours  going 


96  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

without  a  halt,  it  was  refreshing  to  find  the 
mess-tent  and  tiffin  basket,  carried  on  ahead  by 
the  pishhar,  waiting  to  welcome  us  at  the  journey's 
end.  Our  base  of  supplies,  I  should  mention,  so 
long  as  we  were  in  Mesopotamia,  was  the  Tigris. 
As  we  worked  northwards,  provisions  and  forage 
were  collected  successively  at  Amara,  Ali  -  el  - 
gharbi,  Kut- el -Amara,  and  finally  Bagdad,  and 
our  transport  officer  spent  his  time  in  travelling 
backwards  and  forwards  with  supplies  between 
these  places  and  our  line  of  march.  The  arrival 
of  Captain  Dyer  in  camp,  accompanied  by  the 
week's  mail  and  a  dozen  or  so  of  bottled  beer, 
were  the  red-letter  days  in  the  Commission's 
existence. 


97 


CHAPTER    YL 

THE   WALI   OF   PUSHT-I-KUH. 

In  1810  two  oflBcers  of  the  British  Army,  Captain 
Grant  and  Lieutenant  Fotheringham,  adventured 
on  a  PoUtical  Mission  into  the  then  unexplored 
district  of  Pusht-i-Kuh.  They  were  received  by 
the  Chief  of  that  country,  and  entertained  to 
dinner,  but  in  the  course  of  the  meal  were  fallen 
upon  from  behind  and  bound.  The  Chief  then 
had  them  led  to  the  top  of  a  high  cliff  overlooking 
the  valley  of  the  river  Chengouleh,  and  there 
offered  them  the  choice  between  conversion  to 
Islam  and  death.  Both  the  officers  unhesitatingly 
chose  the  second  alternative,  and  were  hurled 
over  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  to  be  dashed  to  death 
on  the  boulders  below.  Since  that  event  only 
three  or  four  Europeans — one  of  whom,  at  least, 
is  supposed  to  have  met  with  the  same  fate  as 
the  two  Englishmen — have  penetrated  the  country. 
It  is  a  wild  strip  of  mountains,  about  160  miles 
in  length,  contained  between  the  highest  ridges 
of  the  Zagros  range  and  the  Mesopotamian  plain, 

G 


98  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

and  stretching  N.W.  to  S.E.  from  near  MendeH 
to  the  borders  of  Arabistan.  Its  name,  which 
may  be  translated  "  Back  o'  the  mountains," 
describes  its  position  from  the  point  of  view  of 
Persia  beyond  the  main  range.  This  remote 
district  has  been,  as  far  as  is  known,  a  quasi- 
independent  State  from  time  immemorial,  and 
thereby  illustrates  what  appears  to  have  been  a 
point  of  policy  with  all  the  kingdoms  of  this  part 
of  the  world.  The  kings  of  Parthia,  Persia,  and 
Assyria  alike  found  it  a  wise  plan — though  often, 
no  doubt,  making  of  necessity  a  virtue — to  main- 
tain along  their  frontiers  small  but  practically 
independent  chieftains,  whose  loyalty  could  be 
more  or  less  assured  by  gifts  of  money  and 
honorific  titles.  They  inaugurated,  in  fact,  the 
modern  political  principle  of  ''  buffer  States."  Of 
such  was  Pusht-i-Kuh,  and  still,  to  some  extent, 
it  is  to-day. 

Its  present  ruler,  Ghulam  Hiza  Khan,  is  the 
14th  of  his  line,  and  governs  for  all  practical 
purposes  as  an  autocrat.  The  authority  of  the 
Teheran  Government  is  in  his  case  even  more 
shadowy  than  in  that  of  his  neighbour  the  Sheikh 
of  Mohammerah,  though  he  is  recognised  as  a 
Persian  functionary,  inasmuch  as  he  receives  an 
emolument  as  Warden  of  the  Marches.  It  is  a 
peculiar  custom  of  his  country  that  quite  a  large 
section  of  the  inhabitants  (Lurs  by  race)  are  in 
perpetual  attendance  on  their  Chief,  and  ac- 
company him  to  his  various  winter  and  summer 


The  Wali  of  Pusht-i-Kuh  99 

residences  ;  being  all  of  them  armed,  they  form  a 
sort  of  small  standing  army.  Here  also,  even 
more  so  than  at  Mohammerah,  the  chief  posts  of 
trust  are  held  by  negro  ghulams.  These  black 
men,  who  themselves  or  whose  parents  were 
originally  brought  into  Persia  as  slaves,  attain, 
presumably  by  virtue  of  a  degree  of  faithfulness 
uncommon  among  the  Lurs,  to  high  positions  of 
authority  as  bailiffs  of  the  Chief,  and  intermarry 
freely  with  his  light-skinned  subjects. 

The  Wali  of  Pusht  -  i  -  Kuh  (for  such  is  his 
sonorous  title,  reminiscent  somewhat  of  the  im- 
mortal heroes  of  Gilbert  and  Sullivan  opera)  was 
an  interested  party  to  the  frontier  question.  In 
the  impregnable  mountains  which  form  almost  the 
whole  of  his  domain,  there  is  a  gap  at  the  point 
which  we  had  now  reached  where  the  Chengouleh 
of  evil  fame  issues  through  the  Jebel  Hamrine 
and  waters  a  considerable  tract  of  land,  spreading 
downwards  in  the  shape  of  a  loop  towards  the 
Tio-ris.  The  Wali  claimed  that  this  tract  was 
cultivated  by  his  men,  and  so  belonged  by  pre- 
scriptive right  to  Persia ;  the  Turks  denied  the 
claim.  The  rival  Commissioners  showed  little 
signs  of  compromise  ;  indeed  their  mutual  attitude 
was  rather  naively  illustrated  by  a  remark  made 
by  one  of  them  to  a  neutral  member  of  the  Com- 
mission :  "  Mais  ces  terrains  la  nous  ne  les  con- 
testons  pas,  c'est  I'autre  parti  qui  les  conteste  1 " 
The  question  was  not  made  the  less  complicated 
by  the  fact  that  "  ces  terrains  la"  had  eighty  years 


lOO  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

before  been  the  site  of  a  flourishing  small  town 
standing  among  groves  of  date-palms.  On  the 
death  of  the  Wali  of  that  day  the  succession  was 
disputed  by  his  three  sons,  one  of  whom,  descend- 
ing on  Baksai,  the  village  in  question,  vented  his 
wrath  on  the  brother  who  owned  it  by  utterly 
razing  it  to  the  ground  and  felling  all  the  palms, 
to  the  number,  history  relates,  of  11,000. 

At  the  time  of  our  visiting  the  place  not  a  sign 
of  its  former  prosperity  was  left  beyond  a  few 
ruins  of  mud  -  built  aqueducts  and  water  -  mills, 
some  rotting  palm -stumps,  and  a  deserted  tomb- 
mosque  gaping  to  the  four  winds.  Soon  after  we 
had  pitched  camp  at  Baksai,  a  present  arrived 
from  the  Wali.  It  took  the  eminently  practical, 
if  rather  unusual,  form  of  a  large  lump  of  snow ; 
he  had  brought  a  quantity  down  from  his  moun- 
tains, and  as  the  plains  were  now  beginning  to 
stoke  up  and  the  thermometer  stood  high  in  the 
nineties,  it  was  quite  the  most  acceptable  gift  he 
could  have  sent.  Next  day  he  came  himself  in 
full  state.  His  train  as  it  wound  across  the  desert 
to  our  camp  was,  it  must  be  confessed,  a  trifle  sug- 
gestive of  a  circus  procession.  First  came  a  guard 
of  riflemen,  two  by  two,  on  foot,  then  a  led  horse, 
the  usual  sign  of  rank,  followed  by  the  court  band, 
in  tattered  red  uniforms,  playing  on  cornets  and 
a  big  drum  (they  were  once,  it  is  said,  in  the 
service  of  a  Pasha  of  Bagdad  and  formed  part  of 
the  Wali's  spoils  of  war  after  a  successful  engage- 
ment with  the  imperial  troops).      Next,  preceded 


The  Wall's  Horse. 


The  Wall's  Vizier. 


The  Wali  of  Pusht-i-Kuh  loi 

by  his  shdtir,  a  resplendent  individual  in  scarlet 
and  gold,  came  the  Wali  himself,  a  tall  bent  figure 
with  coloured  spectacles,  riding  a  fine  Arab  horse 
with  a  leopard  skin  thrown  over  the  saddle  ;  with 
him  were  his  two  sons,  and  behind  rode  the  son 
of  Salar-ed-Douleh,  that  arch-rebel  and  Pretender 
to  the  Persian  throne,  a  handsome  little  boy  in  a 
very  smart  suit,  on  a  horse  with  gold  bridle  and 
trappings.  The  rear  was  brought  up  by  a  long 
string  of  armed  horsemen. 

We  returned  the  Wall's  visit  next  day.  Arriv- 
ing at  his  tent,  we  were  met  by  two  magnificent 
footmen  dressed  in  full-skirted  red  coats,  braided 
across  the  chest  like  a  hussar,  embroidered  white 
stockings,  and  the  most  imposing  hats  you  ever 
saw,  of  the  same  inverted  saucepan  shape  as  the 
charvadar's  already  described,  but  of  far  greater 
proportions,  being  about  eighteen  inches  high  and 
twelve  across  the  top,  and  encircled  at  the  base 
by  a  coloured  turban.  These  splendid  individuals, 
each  carrying  a  hdton  like  a  drum  -  major,  con- 
ducted us  to  the  door  of  the  tent,  whence  we 
were  ushered  by  the  Master  of  Ceremonies  into 
the  presence  of  the  Wali  himself.  The  Wali  was 
installed  in  a  chair  at  the  end  facing  the  door, 
and  placed  lengthways  down  each  side  of  the 
tent  were  two  ordinary  iron  bedsteads.  These 
were,  it  appeared,  intended  for  our  accommoda- 
tion, so  we  arranged  ourselves  along  them  in  two 
rows  facing  each  other. 

A  funny  little  group  squatted  behind  our  host, 


I02  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

composed  of  his  three  youngest  sons,  the  smallest 
of  whom  was  a  little  fellow  of  four,  with  henna- 
stained  curls  and  a  long  green  frock-coat,  who 
attempted,  with  some  success,  to  play  practical 
jokes  with  the  rickety  bedsteads  during  the  audi- 
ence, and  the  ancient  Vizier,  a  hairy  Rip  Van 
Winkle,  who,  throughout  the  conversation,  croaked 
hoarse  promptings  into  his  master's  ear.  The 
only  other  persons  present  were  the  Master  of 
Ceremonies  and  two  grown-up  sons,  who  stood 
demurely  in  the  presence  of  their  father  with  arms 
folded  and  hands  hidden  within  their  sleeves,  as 
Persian  etiquette  demands. 

The  Wah  himself  had  donned  a  curiously  mixed 
costume  for  the  occasion.  He  wore  black  alpaca 
trousers  and  patent-leather  shoes,  with  a  sort  of 
miUtary  frock-coat,  the  epaulettes  of  which  were 
adorned  with  brilliants  set  in  the  device  of  the 
Turkish  tughra,  or  imperial  cipher — perhaps  of 
the  same  origin  as  his  band.  He  was  not  very 
talkative,  and  conversation  was  fitful,  as  becomes 
an  official  visit  in  Persia.  He  was  interested, 
however,  in  aeronautics,  and  asked  questions  on 
the  subject,  whereupon  a  discourse  ensued  rather 
on  the  lines  of  that  chronicled  in  the  first  chapter 
of  'Eothen,'  when  Kinglake  and  the  Pasha  of 
Belgrade  exchange  their  views  on  steam-engines. 
But  the  subjects  nearest  to  the  Wall's  heart  related 
to  his  royal  brethren  (as  he  doubtless  regarded 
them)  on  the  thrones  of  Europe.  "Who,"  asked 
he,  "is  the  Padishah  of  Inghilterra  ?  "     "  Jarge," 


The  Wali  of  Pusht-i-Kuh  103 

replied  our  leading  Persian  scholar,  who  was  carry- 
ing on  the  conversation  (this,  by  the  way,  was  not 
gross  lese-majeste,  but  merely  in  strict  accordance 
with  Persian  pronunciation).  The  Wali  turned 
to  his  Vizier.  "  Write  down  Jarge,"  he  said. 
"And  he  of  Russya?"  he  turned  again  to  his 
guest.  "Nee-ko-las"  was  the  answer.  "Write 
down  Nee-ko-las,"  to  the  Vizier.  "  And  what  is 
the  name  of  the  Padishah  of  Alleman?"  Our 
spokesman  assum-ed  the  air  of  one  racking  his 
memory  for  some  obscure  and  half-forgotten  fact, 
then  replied  in  dubious  tones  that  he  thought 
it  was  something  like  Weel-Yam.  The  German 
Emperor's  name  does  not,  I  have  reason  to  believe, 
figure  in  the  Eoyal  Gazetteer  of  Pusht-i-Kuh. 

The  arrival  of  coffee  presently  intimated  that 
the  guests  were  at  liberty  to  go,  a  hint  trench- 
antly emphasised  by  the  sharp  iron  edges  of 
the  bedsteads.  So  with  the  prescribed  bows 
and  salaams  to  our  host  and  his  suite  we  took 
our  leave. 


104 


CHAPTEE    YIL 

TOWARDS   BAGDAD. 

The  Arbitrating  Commissioners  having  ultimately 
decided  on  an  equitable  solution  of  the  vexed 
question  of  the  Baksai  lands,  the  Commission 
proceeded  on  its  way.  To  the  north  of  Baksai 
there  occurs  a  curious  break  of  level  in  the  desert. 
An  almost  perfectly  straight  cliff,  200  to  300  feet 
high  and  30  miles  long,  runs  out  obliquely  from 
the  mountains  and  causes  this  phenomenon.  Some 
powerful  force  of  erosion  is,  or  has  been,  at  work, 
resulting  in  the  disintegration  of  the  sandstone 
of  which  the  edge  of  the  desert  is  composed. 
Along  the  foot  of  this  cliff,  for  a  depth  of  two  or 
three  miles,  there  stretches  a  strip  of  extraordinary 
formation,  a  jumble  of  little  hills  and  hollows  so 
broken -up  and  confused  that  it  looks  from  a 
distance  like  a  bit  of  very  choppy  sea  which  has 
become  petrified. 

As  there  are  but  three  points  at  which  the  cliff 
is  scaleable,  and  we  elected  to  cross  at  the  farthest 
of  these,  we  pitched  our  first  camp  on  the  hither 
side.     Next   morning,    starting   before   daybreak. 


Towards  Bagdad  105 

the  caravan  plunged  into  the  crumpled  strip 
of  country  I  have  mentioned.  The  hills,  though 
very  low,  shut  off  all  view,  and  so  intricate  were 
their  windings  that  one  had  the  impression  of 
having  wandered  by  mistake  into  the  scenery  of 
some  montagnes  russes.  In  half  an  hour's  time 
our  bearings  were  completely  lost,  and  the  caravan 
was  tied  in  knots.  Incidentally  we  came  across 
the  Chinese  dhohi,  who  had  somehow  got  detached 
from  the  Bussian  caravan,  involved  in  the  same 
predicament  as  ourselves  the  day  before.  We 
boast  of  British  phlegm,  but  for  imperturbability 
of  character  give  me  a  Chinese  dhohi  !  He  tacked 
himself  on  to  our  caravan  without  a  word  or  the 
least  manifestation  of  relief,  and  quite  unaffected 
by  his  night  out  in  the  desert  with  every  prospect 
of  spending  the  rest  of  his  days  wandering  about 
in  this  enormous  maze. 

When  at  last  we  found  the  pass  and  climbed  to 
the  top  of  the  cliff,  a  splendid  view  greeted  us. 
The  mountains  reappeared  ahead,  and  stretching 
between  them  and  us  was  a  huge  wedge  of  irri- 
gated country  contained  between  two  streams 
which  issued  from  the  mountains  some  distance 
apart  and  united  in  the  plain.  In  the  centre  rose 
a  large  white  tomb,  the  tomb  of  Said  Hassan, 
which  gives  its  name  to  all  the  lands  around, 
while  far  away  on  the  western  horizon  was  a 
sight  to  gladden  our  hearts  —  a  streak  of  deep 
green,  the  first  trees  we  had  seen  since  we  left 
the  Karim  six  weeks  before. 

The  green  patch  was   the   small  Turkish  town 


io6  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

of  Bedrai,  and  on  the  following  morning  we  loaded 
up  a  mule  with  tiffin  and  started  from  our  camp  at 
Said  Hassan  to  pay  it  a  visit.  As  we  rode  along  I 
became  conscious  that  a  subtle  change  had  come 
to  pass  ;  there  was  something  unaccustomed,  some- 
thing vaguely  suggestive  of  the  civilised  West  in 
our  surroundings.  I  looked  round,  but  it  was  the 
same  old  familiar  Persian  landscape  of  sand  and 
stones,  with  a  few  tufts  of  short  dry  grass  and 
some  grey  bushes ;  then  suddenly  I  hit  on  the 
secret — we  were  on  a  road.  For  weeks  and  weeks 
we  had  ridden  haphazard  over  a  pathless  waste, 
guided  only  by  landmarks  on  the  horizon,  but  now 
our  horses  w^ere  following  a  distinct  track  which 
wound  visibly  for  miles  ahead,  a  yellow  ribbon 
across  the  darker  brown  of  the  desert.  Soon  w^e 
began  to  meet  groups  of  peasants  driving  tiny 
pack-cows  loaded  with  trusses  of  green  fodder  in 
little  saddle-bags.  Then  the  details  of  Bedrai 
itself  became  visible — an  oasis  of  date  groves  and 
orchards,  perhaps  a  mile  in  diameter,  surrounded 
by  a  stout  mud  wall  with  an  entrance  here  and 
there,  and  containing  the  town  itself  like  a  kernel 
in  the  centre.  We  entered  by  one  of  the  openings 
in  the  wall  and  found  ourselves  in  Paradise. 

It  came  almost  as  a  physical  shock,  the  abrupt 
passing  from  the  arid,  sun -scorched  desert  which 
had  filled  our  whole  horizon  for  so  many  weeks 
past,  into  this  new  world  of  soft  green  foliage, 
fruit -blossom,  and  running  water  —  almost  like 
plunging  on  a  broiling  summer's  day  into  a  deep 
clear  pool.     We  rode  at  first  along  a  narrow  path 


Towards  Bagdad  107 

between  mud  walls,  crossing  and  recrossing  a 
swift  -  flowing  stream,  whose  waters  were  dyed 
like  blood  by  the  soil  of  the  "  Eed  Mountains," 
whence  it  came.  Masses  of  may  and  pomegranate 
blossom  surged  over  the  wall  and  hung  above  the 
path,  while  a  sea  of  tree-tops  of  every  shade  of 
green  stretched  beyond.  Date-palms  reared  their 
serene  crests  high  above  into  a  world  of  their  own, 
like  proud  folk  disowning  any  connection  with 
their  lowly  neighbours  around,  and  a  dying  frond 
here  and  there  catching  the  sun  struck  a  note  of 
dull  gold  against  the  surrounding  green.  Now 
and  again  a  blue  jay  or  a  kingfisher  flashed  across 
the  path,  and  the  air  was  full  of  the  noise  of 
cooing  doves  and  the  sweet  scent  of  orange  blossom. 
Along  the  walls  at  intervals  there  were  heavy 
timber  doors  leading  into  the  orchards,  each  one 
fitted  with  a  little  peep-hole  just  large  enough  to 
allow  a  tantalising  glimpse  of  the  view  beyond 
where  streamlets  sparkled  through  the  tall, 
luxuriant  grass.  One  felt  like  Alice  peeping 
through  the  keyhole  of  the  garden  door  and 
longed  for  her  magic  bottle  ! 

Gradually  the  orchards  gave  way  to  houses, 
and  the  path  resolved  itself  into  a  typical  Turkish 
bazaar,  very  narrow,  with  houses  here  and  there 
built  across  overhead  so  that  we  had  to  duck  right 
down  on  to  our  horses'  necks  to  pass  underneath. 
We  had  planned  to  picnic  among  the  fruit-trees, 
so  our  mirza  was  sent  to  negotiate  the  loan  of  a 
garden  while  we  despatched  an  accumulation  of 
telegrams.      Through    Bedrai   runs  a  small  river 


io8  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

called  by  the  same  name  as  the  place,  and  formed 
by  the  junction  of  the  two  streams,  the  Gavi  and 
the  Gundjiuntchem,  which  enclose,  as  I  have 
mentioned  before,  the  lands  of  Said  Hassan.  Our 
way  to  the  garden  led  us  along  a  cliff  overhanging 
this  river,  and  there  w^e  came  on  a  group  of  tw^o 
men  and  a  boy  busily  engaged  in  an  occupation 
which  puzzled  us  exceedingly.  They  had  between 
them  two  small  baskets,  one  full  of  worms,  the 
other  of  short  sticks  of  some  black  substance. 
Number  one  would  select  a  fat  w^orm,  hand  it  to 
number  two,  who  spitted  it  with  a  bit  of  stick, 
w^hen  it  was  passed  on  to  the  boy,  w^io  threw  it 
carelessly  into  the  river  below.  After  several 
ingenious  theories  had  been  expounded  as  to  w^hat 
it  all  meant,  we  asked  the  men  themselves  and 
learnt  the  true  explanation.  They  were  fishermen 
(save  the  mark !),  and  the  bits  of  stick  they  em- 
bedded in  the  worms  were  poisoned.  The  unhappy 
fish  who  swallowed  the  bait  died,  it  appeared,  on 
the  spot,  and  their  corpses  were  retrieved  by 
accomplices  with  shrimping  nets  posted  farther 
down  the  stream.  We  forebore  to  moot  the 
delicate  questions  of  w^ho  eventually  ate  the  fish  ! 
We  found  our  garden,  and  passing  through  a 
deep  gatew^ay  in  the  w^all  and  a  porch  beyond, 
came  out  into  a  wilderness  of  fruit-trees,  in  the 
midst  of  which,  on  a  grassy  space  beside  the 
stream,  our  host  had  spread  carpets  and  quilts 
for  our  reception.  Here,  stretched  at  our  ease, 
with  the  sunlight  dappling  our  horses'  backs  as 


Towards  Bagdad  109 

they  grazed  around  us  in  the  lush  grass,  the  blue 
smoke  of  our  servants'  fire  curling  upwards  through 
the  branches,  and  our  own  samovar  gurgling  softly 
to  itself  near  by,  we  tasted  to  its  fullest  depth  the 
perfect  haif,  that  dolce  far  niente  of  the  East. 
Into  this  haven  of  bliss  broke  in  a  vendor  of 
antiques.  Experience  should  have  taught  me 
that  the  one  representative  of  the  human  race 
from  whose  presence  one  is  never  safe  is  the 
"  antica "  -  seller ;  yet,  I  confess,  to  meet  one  in 
Bedrai,  which  averages  perhaps  ten  visitors  from 
Europe  in  a  century,  was  a  shock.  However, 
there  he  was  with  the  regular  appurtenances  of 
his  trade,  a  number  of  little  objects  knotted  up  in 
a  large  pocket-handkerchief  It  transpired  later 
that  we  were  near  an  ancient  site  called  by  the 
Arabs  Akr,  where  they  grub  up  these  remains  in 
search  for  treasure.  His  collection  consisted  of  a 
few  coins,  some  sherds  covered  with  hieroglyphics, 
the  head  of  a  little  Grecian  statuette,  a  glazed 
earthenware  figure  of  a  rider  and  horse  very 
roughly  shaped  (which  our  expert  pronounced  to 
be  Elamite),  and  a  polished  block  of  black  stone 
with  a  swan's  head  and  neck  very  gracefully  carved 
in  high  relief.  After  the  usual  haggle,  in  the 
course  of  which  our  friend's  original  demand 
abated  about  500  per  cent,  we  bought  the  lot. 
Thereupon,  seeing  that  business  was  brisk,  he 
confided  that  he  had  at  home  a  unique  "  antica " 
of  exceptional  value,  and  should  he  go  and  fetch 
it  ?     We  assented  and  waited,  full  of  curiosity  to 


no  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

see  what  his  treasure  would  prove  to  be.  Presently 
he  returned  with  a  fair-sized  bundle  which  he  care- 
fully unwrapped,  and  displayed  to  our  astonished 
view  a  dear  old  Staffordshire  china  spaniel !  He 
might  have  come  straight  from  the  chimneypiece 
of  some  old-fashioned  cottager  at  home,  so  sleek 
and  smug  he  looked  with  hardly  a  chip  off  his 
glossy  porcelain  coat.  His  owner  put  on  him  a 
prohibitive  price,  but  I  would  have  given  much 
to  know  that  spaniel's  history  and  all  the  vicissi- 
tudes he  had  passed  through  between  the  potteries 
and  remote  Bedrai. 

An  hour's  ride  from  Bedrai  lies  the  village  of 
Zorbatieh,  where  we  camped  for  a  couple  of  days. 
Though  surrounded  by  gardens  like  the  former 
place,  it  is  far  less  picturesque,  and  our  stay  there 
was  memorable  only  for  the  poultry  with  which 
we  stocked  our  commissariat.  They  were  a  breed 
of  white  birds,  with  wings  and  tails  of  bright 
cerulean  blue.  The  effect  was  startling,  and  gave 
them  at  first  sight  the  appearance  rather  of  birds 
of  paradise  than  of  barn-door  fowls.  It  was  only 
under  close  examination  that  their  exotic  plumage 
turned  out  to  be  not  the  work  of  nature  but  of  a 
local  artist  with  a  pot  of  paint.  Whether  their 
adornment  was  a  compliment  to  us,  or  whether 
it  is  the  fashion  of  all  the  hens  of  Zorbatieh,  I 
was  not  able  to  discover.  They  journeyed  with 
us  for  several  days  in  a  crate  fastened  on  a  mule's 
back,  their  number  dwindling  day  by  day  v/ith 


Mendeli. 


Bedrai. 


Towards  Bagdad  1 1 1 

the  same  tragic  regularity  as  those  of  the  ten 
little  nigger  boys  of  nursery  fame. 

Leaving  Zorbatieh,  we  started  on  the  last  stage 
of  our  journey  to  Mendeli.  It  was  a  three  days' 
march,  marked  by  a  couple  of  unwelcome  experi- 
ences. On  the  first  day  we  met  with  our  first 
and,  alhamdu'llilali,  our  last  bad  sand  -  storm. 
By  great  good  luck  the  wind  was  from  behind, 
but  it  blew  with  so  much  force  that  the  grains 
penetrated  to  our  very  skins,  as  well  as  into  the 
innermost  recesses  of  our  luggage,  finding  its  way, 
as  only  desert  sand  knows  how  to,  between  the 
leaves  of  one's  books  and  into  every  seam  of  one's 
garments,  to  be  finally  got  rid  of  only  after  many 
days.  With  the  fall  of  night  the  storm  turned 
to  a  tempest,  and  a  terrific  thunderstorm,  which 
had  been  brewing  all  day  among  the  mountains, 
burst  upon  us,  straining  our  canvas  to  the  last 
stitch.  Our  tents  nobly  withstood  the  onslaught, 
and  only  one  ridge-pole  broke,  the  pyjamaed 
inmate  of  the  tent  getting  a  thorough  drenching 
before  he  could  extricate  himself  from  the  ruin 
and  find  refuge  with  his  neighbour  from  the  fury 
of  the  elements. 

The  next  day  every  ditch  and  rivulet  was  in 
full  flood,  and  the  caravan  splashed  its  way 
through  leagues  of  mud  and  water.  After  a 
while  we  came  to  a  stream  with  a  strip  of  bog 
on  either  bank.  The  mules  in  trying  to  cross 
it  sank  to  their  bellies,  and  several  had  to 
be  unloaded  midway  before  they  could  flounder 


112  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

through.  One  poor  ammal,  finding  himself  stuck 
beyond  hope  of  recovery,  gave  up  the  struggle 
and  quietly  lay  down  on  his  side  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream,  pack  and  all,  with  the  air  of  one 
resigned  to  die.  The  united  efforts  of  half  a 
dozen  charvadars  eventually  hoisted  him  on  to 
his  feet  again  and  hauled  mule  and  load  to  the 
farther  bank.  There,  amid  universal  consterna- 
tion, it  was  found  that  the  submerged  load 
contained  the  priceless  original  of  the  "Carte 
Identique,"  together  with  the  entire  collection 
of  new  maps  which  our  survey  officers  had  made 
up  to  date.  Five  minutes  later  you  might  have 
mistaken  the  desert  for  the  backyard  of  a  laundry, 
every  bush  in  the  neighbourhood  being  spread 
with  a  map  put  out  to  dry.  Fortunately  very 
little  water  had  found  its  way  into  the  tin  cases 
in  which  the  maps  were  packed,  and  the  harm 
done  was  negligible. 

From  our  last  camp  short  of  Mendeli  I  rode 
on  ahead  to  find  a  camping-ground  outside  the 
town.  Having  selected  a  suitable  place,  and 
being  hot  and  tired  from  my  ride,  I  made  for 
the  friendly  shade  of  a  group  of  palms  clustering 
round  a  mill.  It  was  an  inviting  spot  on  such 
a  scorchingly  hot  day.  A  fern-grown  aqueduct 
carried  down  a  volume  of  clear  snow  water  to 
feed  the  mill,  the  wheel  revolving  in  a  vertical 
tunnel  down  which  the  water  plunged  with  a 
continuous  roar.  The  buildings  were  enclosed  by 
a  wall   pierced   by  a   deep  pathway,  within   the 


Towards  Bagdad  1 1 3 

shade  of  which  sat  the  miller  with  his  family — 
that  is  to  say,  his  wife  and  two  brown  little 
boys,  who  looked  delightfully  quaint  in  their  high 
Persian  hats  and  blue  shirts  open  right  down 
to  their  fat  little  tummies.  I  was  standing 
watching  the  bare-legged  bakers  come  riding  up 
on  their  donkeys  to  fetch  away  sacks  of  flour 
when  the  jovial  miller  spied  me.  He  at  once 
brought  out  a  carpet  and  led  me  to  a  strip  of 
grass  by  the  side  of  a  pond  among  the  palms, 
where  he  spread  the  carpet  and  begged  me  to 
sit  down  and  rest.  His  act  was  typical  of  the 
innate  courtesy  of  the  Persian,  however  lowly 
born,  and  his  first  remark  was  an  example  of 
the  pretty  turn  of  compliment  which  comes  so 
naturally  to  their  lips.  I  had  admired  the  smooth 
green  turf  and  the  clear  pool  at  our  feet.  "  The 
praise  to  Allah  ! "  he  replied ;  ''  the  grass  is 
greenest  and  the  water  clearest  wherever  your 
presence  brings  honour."  Our  conversation  turned 
to  the  question  of  the  frontier,  in  which  my  miller 
took  a  personal  interest,  being  a  Persian  himself, 
but  living  actually  on  Turkish  soil.  He  asked 
how  the  line  would  run  past  Mendeli.  I  sketched 
it  for  him,  and  asked  if  he  approved.  "  Che  arz 
hmamf"  was  all  he  said.  "What  petition  shall 
I  make  ?     It  is  all  in  the  hands  of  Allah." 

After  all,  I  reflected,  what  higher  compliment 
could  the  worthy  fellow  pay  than  to  identify  the 
Commission  thus  with  Divine  Providence  ! 

Mendeli  is  the  chief  town  of  a  kaza,  and  boasts 


114  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

a  kaimaJcam ;  it  also  has  a  fine  roofed-in  bazaar 
and  a  remarkable  system  of  small  canals,  which 
wind  in  and  out,  and  even  tunnel  underneath 
the  houses,  in  the  most  unexpected  fashion.  In 
spring-time  these  canals  are  full  of  clear,  swift- 
flowing  water,  and  lend  a  particular  charm  to  the 
place ;  but  in  summer,  when  they  dry  up,  they 
must  become  pestilential  in  the  last  degree.  We 
called  on  the  haimahciTn,  who  received  us  very 
affably,  and  read  aloud  to  us  the  latest  news  of 
the  Ulster  crisis  from  his  copy  of  the  local  Turkish 
newspaper. 

Bagdad  lies  seventy  miles  west  by  a  little  south 
of  Mendeli,  the  nearest  point  of  the  frontier.  By 
the  time  we  had  reached  this  latter  place  the 
temperature  in  the  plains  was  rapidly  increasing, 
being  already  100°  in  the  shade.  There  remained 
still  eighty  very  difficult  miles  of  frontier  to 
demarcate  before  the  hills  were  reached,  and  in 
consequence  the  Commission  found  itself  involved 
in  a  race  against  time. 

Very  reluctantly,  therefore,  I  saw  my  hopes  of 
a  lifetime  fade  as  the  prospect  of  being  able  to 
see  Bagdad  grew  more  and  more  remote.  As 
chance  would  have  it,  however,  the  proverbial 
wind  which  always  brings  good  to  somebody  took 
this  occasion  to  blow,  and  wafted  me  all  unex- 
pectedly to  the  desired  port.  The  heat  and  the 
fatigues  of  the  long  desert  march  had  affected 
the  health  of  our  chief,   Mr  Wratislaw,   and  he 


Towards  Bagdad  115 

was  ordered  by  the  doctor  to  take  an  absolute 
rest  and  recoup  among  more  civilised  surroundings. 
I  was  to  go  with  him  to  Bagdad,  and  so  it  came 
about  that,  accompanied  by  four  sowars  and  a 
caravan  of  fifteen  mules,  we  left  Mendeli  on  the 
morning  of  April  15  and  set  our  faces  towards 
the  Tigris. 

Except  for  the  storm  of  a  few  days  before,  the 
weather  had  been  "  set  fair  "  for  some  weeks  past, 
and  a  few  white  clouds  hovering  over  the  horizon 
looked  unfamiliar.  By  ten  o'clock  they  had  grown 
bigger  and  blacker,  and  w^e  saw  that  we  were  in 
for  one  of  the  fierce  thunderstorms  which  sw^eep 
along  the  edge  of  the  plain  at  this  season  of  the 
year.  There  was  not  a  scrap  of  shelter  from  the 
tearing  wind,  so  we  ate  our  tiffin  as  best  we  could 
behind  a  screen  formed  by  a  blanket  rigged  up 
against  a  couple  of  lances  stuck  in  the  ground, 
and  then  rode  on  through  the  pouring  rain.  We 
had  dried  in  our  saddles  when,  after  eight  hours' 
riding  across  the  naked  brown  plain,  we  saw 
ahead  of  us  the  welcome  dark  patch  which 
betokens  an  oasis  village.  But  there's  "  many  a 
slip"  for  the  traveller  in  these  pathless  regions, 
and  just  as  we  w^ere  congratulating  ourselves  on 
reaching  the  end  of  the  day's  march,  we  came  to 
the  brink  of  a  muddy  lake,  a  mile  or  more  wide, 
cutting  us  off  from  the  village  and  stretching 
indefinitely  in  either  direction.  The  flood  appa- 
rently covered  the  desert  for  miles  around,  so  we 


ii6  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

chanced  our  luck  and  rode  into  it  girth -deep. 
By  Allah's  favour  the  caravan  struggled  safely 
throuo-h  with  the  exception  of  one  mule,  who  lost 
his  footing  and  collapsed  into  three  feet  of  water 
and  mud  amidst  the  wreckage  of  our  kitchen. 

The  village  we  had  come  to  was  Balad  Ruz,  one 
of  the  most  charming  I  have  ever  seen.  As  we 
rode  through  next  morning  in  the  freshness  of 
dawn,  it  looked  so  pretty  as  to  seem  almost  unreal. 
The  path  wound  alongside  a  willow-shaded  stream, 
the  innocent-looking  author  of  our  kitchen  s  ruin  ! 
The  young  sunlight  fell  in  splashes  of  gold  on  the 
water  and  the  high  mud  walls  which  hemmed  in 
the  path  on  either  side,  and  over  which  fell 
great  scarlet  sprays  of  pomegranate,  brushing 
our  shoulders  as  we  rode  along. 

Nearer  to  the  village  itself  monumental  piles 
of  dry  sticks  crowned  the  walls,  from  the  top  of 
which  sleepy  storks  gazed  disapprovingly  down 
at  us,  one  here  and  there  laying  his  head  flat 
along  his  back  and  clacking  his  beak  like  castanets 
in  protest  against  such  early  risers.  (This  trick, 
by  the  way,  has  earned  for  them  a  quaint  name 
among  the  Arabs,  '' Hajji  Lak-Lak,"  hajji  being 
the  title  given  to  a  pilgrim  back  from  Mecca, 
whither  the  storks  are  supposed  to  disappear  at 
their  annual  migration.) 

An  hour  later  we  had  left  this  pretty  village 
far  behind,  and  were  once  more  swallowed  up  by 
the  vast  empty  plain.  That  evening  brought  us 
to  Bakuba,  a  large  village  on  the  Diala,  which  is 


Bacdad.      Bridge  of  Boats. 


li 

^j      — 

Hajjl  Lak-Lak." 


Towards  Bagdad  117 

an  important  tributary  of  the  Tigris.  We  rode 
through  a  long  covered  bazaar,  very  gay  with 
stacks  of  oranges  and  piles  of  bright -coloured 
stuffs  in  the  booths  on  each  side,  and  on  over 
a  crazy  pontoon -bridge,  to  our  camping -ground 
on  the  farther  bank. 

The  next  day  saw  us  posting  the  remaining 
thirty  miles  into  Bagdad  in  a  four-horse  landau, 
the  local  form  of  post-chaise.  We  drove  along 
the  Bagdad-Kermanshah  road,  but  the  ill- defined 
track  of  wheel-  and  hoof-marks  over  which  we 
jolted  and  swayed  was  hard  to  recognise  as  the 
chief  trade-route  between  Turkey  and  Persia,  and 
one  of  the  greatest  pilgrim-roads  of  Asia.  Along 
it  flock  the  many  thousands  of  devout  Shias  who 
make  pilgrimage  to  Kerbela  and  Nejf,  the  mesheds 
or  "places  of  martyrdom"  of  the  Caliph  Ali  and 
of  his  son  Hussein,  as  holy  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Shias  as  Mecca  itself  They  lie  on  the  farther 
side  of  Bagdad,  not  far  from  the  ruins  of  Babylon. 
There  are  other  places  of  pilgrimage  at  Bagdad 
itself,  including  the  tombs  of  the  seventh  and 
ninth  Imams. 

Bumping  along  this  execrable  road  worn  by  the 
feet  of  the  faithful,  we  met  and  passed  pilgrims  of 
every  degree.  First  would  come  some  rich  man's 
train.  He  is  doing  the  pilgrimage  en  grand 
seigneur  with  a  team  of  pack-mules  and  kajavehs 
for  himself  and  family.  These  are  a  sort  of  closed 
pannier  slung  one  on  either  side  of  a  horse.  They 
rock  atrociously,   and  the   occupant,   who   squats 


ii8  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

on  the  floor,  must  experience  all  the  sensations 
of  a  cross- Channel  journey.  A  muffled  twittering 
issues  from  one  as  it  passes,  betraying  the  hartm 
within ;  another,  with  the  curtains  thrown  back, 
accommodates  the  solemn  and  bulky  figure  of  the 
great  man  himself.  Next  come  humbler  folk  on 
foot  with  donkeys  to  carry  their  belongings ;  and 
last  of  all,  the  poorest  pilgrims  who  cannot  even 
afford  this  luxury,  but  carry  their  little  all  in 
bundles  on  their  backs.  One  old  man  we  stopped 
and  asked  where  he  came  from.  He  was  a  tired- 
looking  ancient,  and  could  only  hobble  with  the 
help  of  a  stick,  but  he  cheerfully  answered  the 
name  of  a  small  town  on  the  farther  side  of 
Teheran  !  Poor  old  fellow,  he  must  have  been 
weeks  on  the  road,  and  he  was  quite  alone ;  but 
we  left  him  contentedly  munching  a  morsel  of 
stale  bread  and  garlic  which  our  driver,  in  a  fit 
of  generosity,  had  spared  out  of  the  remains  of 
his  breakfast. 

It  struck  me  as  I  watched  them  pass  what  a 
loss  to  Christendom  it  must  have  been  when 
the  old  pilgrimage  habit  died  out.  Your  Moslem 
hajji  loads  up  a  donkey,  sets  ofl"from  home,  and 
tramps  for  months  across  whole  countries  or  even 
continents.  (I  have  read  a  book  of  travel  in 
Central  Africa  whose  author  came  across  a  party 
of  pilgrims  somewhere  near  Lake  Chad  on  their 
way  to  Mecca.)  On  his  way  he  falls  in  with 
other  hajjis  of  a  dozen  difl*erent  races,  all  making 
for  the  same  goal  and  united  by  a  common  bond 


Towards  Bagdad  119 

of  fellowship.  He  reaches  the  sacred  shrine,  per- 
forms the  established  rites,  and  returns  home  with 
a  stock  of  yarns  to  last  a  lifetime  and  a  comfort- 
able feeling  inside  that  he  has  booked  his  seat  in 
Paradise.  Think  what  an  experience  it  would  be 
for  a  British  labourer  or  artisan  ! 

When  we  were  still  two  hours  distant  from 
Bagdad  the  mirage  ahead  began  slowly,  fantas- 
tically, to  resolve  itself  into  a  vision  of  domes  and 
minarets.  It  was  a  strange  ethereal  city  which 
gradually  took  shape  before  our  eyes,  for  the  haze 
obscured  the  lower  half  of  each  building,  leaving 
its  upper  portion  floating  in  the  sky.  Presently, 
farther  to  the  north,  a  broadening  dark  streak 
betrayed  the  course  of  the  Tigris  with  its  double 
belt  of  palms.  Then  two  points  of  light  beyond 
began  to  flash  in  the  sun,  which  we  knew  for 
the  Imams'  tombs  of  Kazimein  with  their  domes 
plated  with  solid  gold.  It  was  surely  such  a 
vision  as  the  Dreamer  on  Patmos  must  have 
seen  when  he  described  the  jewelled  city  of  the 
Apocalypse. 

But  the  vision  was  fleeting,  and  disillusion 
followed  close  at  heel.  The  dream  -  city  soon 
became  a  solid  thing  of  brick  and  mortar,  and 
the  nearer  we  came  to  it  the  less  ideal  it 
appeared.  Bagdad  is,  jpar  excellence,  a  river- 
town.  She  owes  everything  to  the  Tigris,  and 
honourably  repays  the  debt  by  reserving  all  her 
charms  for  the  river  front.  To  the  desert  she 
turns  her  back,   and    a   remarkably  ugly,   sordid 


I20  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

back  it  is.  Entering  thus,  so  to  speak,  by  the 
back-door,  our  first  impressions  were  anything  but 
favourable.  The  carriage  drove  in  through  the 
debris  of  the  old  town  walls,  threaded  its  way 
between  a  wilderness  of  pariah-haunted  cemeteries 
and  dust -heaps,  relieved  by  a  solitary  fine  old 
tiled  minaret  derelict  amidst  the  surrounding 
waste,  and  plunged  into  a  region  of  featureless 
back  streets.  From  these  depressing  scenes  we 
emerged  presently  into  the  main  street,  and 
ended  our  journey  a  minute  later  at  the  gates 
of  the  British  Residency. 


121 


CHAPTEE    YIIL 

DAR-EL-KHALIFEH. 

Ceetain  towns  of  Turkey  possess  titles  which  con- 
stitute a  sort  of  official  surname.  Constantinople, 
to  take  an  example,  which  in  ordinary  conversation 
is  plain  Istamhoul,  assumes  in  documents  of  State 
— and  even  nowadays  in  the  columns  of  news- 
papers— the  more  imposing  guise  of  Dar-el-Saadet, 
''  The  Place  of  Felicity."  Bagdad,  in  the  same 
way,  boasts  the  proud  title  of  Dar-el-Khalifeh, 
"  The  House  of  the  Caliphate  "  (or,  as  we  know  it 
better,  "The  City  of  the  Caliphs"),  and  so  keeps 
green  the  memory  of  its  golden  age.  Of  all  the 
cities  where  in  different  ages  the  Commander  of 
the  Faithful  has  held  his  court — Damascus,  Cor- 
dova, Cairo,  and  in  these  latter  days  Stamboul — 
none  is  closer  linked  with  the  triumphs  of  Islam, 
yet  none  has  fewer  relics  to  show  of  its  glorious 
past.  Floods,  fires,  destroying  armies  have  done 
their  work  too  well,  and  obliterated  almost  the  last 
trace  of  what  in  the  ninth  century  was  perhaps 
the  most  splendid  city  of  the  East. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  outline  briefly  Bagdad's 


122  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

history.  There  is  some  evidence  that  a  town  ex- 
isted on  the  present  site  in  the  days  of  Nebuchad- 
nezzar. A  fragment  of  wall  on  the  river's  bank 
was  discovered  last  century  built  of  mud  bricks, 
each  one  stamped,  like  those  of  Babylon,  with  the 
name  of  the  herbivorous  king.  It  is  very  striking, 
by  the  way,  to  a  traveller  in  Mesopotamia  to  see 
how  permanent  a  building  material  mud  is — far 
more  so  than  stone.  The  reason  is  twofold  :  firstly, 
mud  architecture  must,  by  the  nature  of  things,  be 
built  exceedingly  solid ;  and  secondly,  mud  walls 
are  hardly  worth  pulling  down  and  carting  away, 
whereas  stone  can  be  always  used  again,  and  a 
stone-built  ruin  is  regarded  purely  and  simply  as  a 
convenient  quarry.  If  Ctesiphon  had  been  built 
in  stone,  I  greatly  doubt  if  a  single  stone  of  the 
colossal  arch  would  be  standing  to-day. 

But  to  return  to  our  subject.  It  was  the  Abba- 
side  Caliph  Mansour  who,  in  search  of  a  capital 
worthy  of  the  head  of  Islam,  then  at  the  zenith  of 
its  martial  glory,  chose  Bagdad  for  the  site.  This 
was  in  762  A.D.,  a  bare  hundred  years  after  Moham- 
mad's death.  Half  a  century  later  Bagdad  had 
become,  if  not  the  hub  of  the  universe,  at  least  the 
centre  of  gravitation  of  the  Islamic  world,  gathering 
to  itself  the  highest  in  art  and  science  of  the  age. 
The  Caliph's  court,  the  most  splendid  in  the  East, 
rose  to  the  highest  pitch  of  magnificence  under 
Haroun-er-Rashid,  immortalised  for  ever  by  the 
tales  of  the  '  Thousand  and  One  Nights.' 

The  inevitable  decadence  followed,  and  the 
Caliphs    became   mere   creatures   of   luxury,    and 


Dar-el-Khalifeh  123 

finally  puppets  in  the  hands  of  their  own  servants. 
In  1277  Hulagu  Khan  swept  down  on  Bagdad  with 
his  Mongol  hordes  and  destroyed  the  last  of  its 
Caliphs.  The  subsequent  history  of  the  Caliphate, 
how  it  was  transferred  to  Cairo,  and  thence  in  the 
sixteenth  century  to  the  reigning  dynasty  of  the 
Sultans  of  Turkey,  does  not  concern  our  subject. 
The  ubiquitous  Tamerlain  found  time  to  visit  and 
sack  Bagdad.  Ottoman  domination  began  there 
in  the  reign  of  Suleyman  the  Magnificent,  the 
contemporary  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  who,  with  his 
successor  Selim  L,  extended  the  boundaries  of  the 
Turkish  Empire  to  their  farthest  limits.  In  the 
seventeenth  century,  when  that  empire  had  begun 
to  wane  and  Persia  was  a  formidable  rival,  Bagdad 
fell  to  the  armies  of  Shah  Abbas.  It  did  not 
remain  long,  however,  in  Persian  possession,  but 
was  recovered  in  1638  by  Sultan  Murad  the 
Fourth. 

Since  then  there  is  little  to  record.  Though 
retaining  always  a  considerable  degree  of  import- 
ance by  its  past,  its  situation  on  the  Tigris,  and  its 
position  as  capital  of  the  great  province  of  Irak, 
the  town  sank  more  or  less  into  provincialism,  and 
became,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  Porte,  chiefly 
a  convenient  place  for  exiling  obstreperous  Valis. 
Later,  its  importance  was,  of  course,  enormously 
enhanced  when  the  Bagdad  Bailway  began  to  take 
concrete  shape,  and  at  the  time  of  the  outbreak 
of  war  was  in  a  fair  way  to  regaining  much  of  its 
old  pre-eminence,  as  soon  as  this  immense  scheme 
should  have  reached  completion. 


124  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

Extremely  few  authentic  relics  of  the  days  of 
the  Caliphate  remain,  as  I  have  already  said,  at 
Bagdad,  and  the  traveller  who  arrives  there,  primed 
with  memories  of  the  Arabian  Nights  and  hoping 
to  find  himself  again  among  their  scenes,  is  doomed 
to  bitter  disappointment.  Happily  for  myself  I 
had  been  forewarned,  so  I  arrived  prepared  to  take 
Bagdad  simply  for  what  it  is  to-day,  a  very  in- 
teresting and  pictm^esque  Turkish  town. 

The  first  feature  of  Bagdad  that  struck  me  was 
the  number  and  colossal  impudence  of  its  swallows. 
The  house  was  full  of  them;  they  were  building 
nests  in  every  available  corner,  and  at  dinner-time 
they  flew  in  circles  round  the  table.  When  I  went 
to  my  bathroom  on  the  first  morning  I  found  a 
young  pair  setting  up  house,  so  I  drove  them  out 
and  closed  the  shutters.  On  coming  back  to  my 
bedroom  I  found  them  hard  at  work  there,  and 
again  I  expelled  them.  They  merely  transferred 
their  energies  to  my  sitting-room,  which  apartment 
having  four  windows  and  two  doors,  I  realised  that 
further  action  was  hopeless,  and  resigned  myself 
like  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  place  to  a  policy 
of  contemptuous  indifference. 

All  good  travellers  to  Bagdad  go  first  to  see  the 
bridge  of  boats,  so  thither  we  dutifully  set  out  on 
the  morning  of  our  arrival.  But  there  had  been  an 
exceptionally  heavy  spate  on  the  river  a  few  days 
before,  the  water  rising  nearly  20  feet  in  as  many 
hours,  and  the  bridge  was  swung  back  along  either 
bank  out  of  harm's  way.     The  scene  on  the  river, 


Dar-el-Khalifeh  1 25 

however,  was  inspiring.  A  steam-tug  with  loaded 
sefinehs  lashed  on  either  side  came  tearing  down- 
stream at  a  good  fifteen  miles  an  hour ;  ugly  iron 
lighters,  which  had  been  towed  up  from  Basra  full 
of  rails  and  boilers  for  the  Bagdad  Bailway,  w^ere 
discharging  their  cargo  on  to  the  western  bank 
with  a  fiendish  clatter  and  din,  and  dozens  of  gufas, 
the  characteristic  small  craft  of  Bagdad,  were  ply- 
ing across  the  river.  The  gufa  is  the  most  archaic 
type  of  boat  in  the  world.  It  is  simply  a  big 
round  basket  of  wicker-work — the  largest  holding 
twenty  passengers  and  more — "  pitched  within  and 
without  with  pitch  "  like  Noah's  Ark.  It  spins 
helplessly  round  and  round  in  the  stream,  ap- 
parently quite  unresponsive  to  the  efforts  of  the 
rowers,  and  you  can  visualise  it  exactly  if  your 
childhood  memories  are  fresh  enough  to  recall  the 
picture  in  the  nursery  rhyme  book  of  the  "  Three 
Wise  Men  of  Go  than  who  Avent  to  sea  in  a  tub." 

The  bridge  being  in  normal  times  about  as 
crowded  as  London  Bridge  at  noon,  the  dislocation 
of  traffic  caused  by  the  flood  was  considerable,  and 
the  gufas  were  doing  a  roaring  trade.  A  small 
fleet  of  them  lay  in  a  basin  near  the  bridge-head. 
Each  passenger  as  he  arrived  at  the  landing-steps 
bundled  into  the  nearest,  and  when  there  was  not 
space  left  for  a  mouse  the  gufa  cast  off".  It  was 
towed  some  hundred  yards  up-stream  by  a  man 
with  a  rope  walking  along  a  ledge  built  out  for  the 
purpose  from  the  river- walls  of  the  houses  lining 
the  bank,  and  then  launched  on  its  voyage  towards 


126  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

the  farther  bank,  which  it  reached,  after  strenuous 
efforts  by  the  rowers,  at  a  point  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
or  so  down-stream.  Occasionally  a  merchant  turned 
up,  followed  by  a  string  of  porters  with  bales  of 
merchandise.  Then  an  extra  large  gufa  would  be 
requisitioned,  the  bales  piled  inside  till  they  formed 
a  pyramid  eight  or  nine  feet  high,  their  owner  would 
scramble  up  and  perch  himself  perilously  atop,  the 
rowers  squeeze  into  any  crannies  they  could  find 
below,  and  the  whole  marvellous  erection  sail  off. 
Parallel  to  the  river,  and  extending  through 
half  the  length  of  the  town,  run  the  bazaars,  con- 
nected by  short  cross-streets  with  the  river-side 
wharves.  They  are  roofed  in  almost  from  end 
to  end — in  parts  with  a  high-pitched  timber  roof, 
and  in  parts  with  what  the  Turks  call  "Aleppo" 
vaulting — a  series  of  traverse  arches  with  the  spaces 
between  filled  by  small  brick  domes.  Through 
apertures  piercing  the  roof  at  regular  intervals 
the  sun  streams  into  the  dark  interior  and  forms 
shafts  of  light  all  a-whirl  with  a  grey-blue  haze 
of  cigarette  smoke.  The  effect  of  these  vistas  of 
bright  columns  against  a  dim  background  is  de- 
lightful. Two  features  which  I  always  welcome 
in  an  Eastern  bazaar  were,  however,  conspicuously 
absent — the  all-pervading  smell  of  saffron  and  the 
rhythmic  thud-click-click-thud  of  the  spice-grinder's 
pestle  and  mortar ;  but  there  was  compensation 
for  the  loss  in  the  brightness  of  the  colour  scheme. 
There  is  a  glad  note  in  the  architecture  which  is 
lacking  in  the  more  austere  styles  df  Cairo  and 


Gufas. 


A  Bagdad  Ferry. 


Dar-el-Khalifeh  127 

Stamboul  —  the  result,  no  doubt,  of  Persian  in- 
fluence. The  gateways  leading  to  mosques  are 
many  of  them  covered  with  green,  blue,  and 
white  tiles,  with  here  and  there  a  splash  of  red, 
set  in  minute  and  intricate  designs.  Dainty  little 
archways  surprise  you  at  odd  corners,  and  now 
and  then  you  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  tile  -  clad 
minaret  or  dome  encircled  with  a  broad  frieze  of 
graceful  Kufic  script.  At  one  place  in  the  main 
bazaar  there  is  a  saint's  tomb  hidden  behind  a 
delicately  painted  facade  of  pink  roses.  The 
roses  are  all  worn  away  at  the  level  of  a  woman's 
lips ;  I  suppose  the  saint  has  some  special  blessing 
to  bestow  on  his  fair  devotees. 

Bagdad  must  have  as  heterogeneous  a  popula- 
tion ixs  any  city  of  its  size  in  the  world,  and  in 
a  walk  through  its  bazaars  you  meet  types  of  a 
score  of  different  races.  Predominant,  of  course, 
are  the  native  Arabs.  They  retain,  even  in  the 
degeneracy  of  town  life,  the  dress  of  the  desert — 
the  long  brown  cloak,  and  for  head-dress  the 
kuffiyeh,  held  in  place  by  a  halo-shaped  agal  of 
twisted  camel's  hair.  But  the  former  is  rarely 
now  the  tasselled  red -and -yellow  silk  handker- 
chiefs of  old  days,  but  usually  a  piece  of  cheap 
and  ugly  "  Manchester  goods  "  hardly  distinguish- 
able from  a  housemaid's  duster.  Then  there  are 
the  Persians,  merchants  for  the  most  part — fat, 
placid  gentlemen  of  the  type  you  see  portrayed 
in  old  Persian  miniatures.  They  have  a  certain 
air    of    unctuous    dignity    as    they    sit    in    their 


128  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

narrow  booths,  tight -packed  among  their  wares 
and  toying  with  the  beads  of  an  amber  rosary. 

A  chance  sign-board  above  some  humble  shop 
catches  your  eye  :  the  name  is  one  that  figures 
hio-h  in  the  roll  of  titled  plutocracy  nearer  home. 
A  successful  race  these  descendants  of  the 
Children  of  the  Captivity  who  still  haunt  the 
banks  of  the  "Waters  of  Babylon,"  but  send 
their  off-shoots  to  control  the  financial  destinies 
of  Europe  1 

Presently  you  meet  a  string  of  sturdy  ruffians 
paddling  along  at  a  jog-trot  with  Atlantean 
burdens  on  their  backs.  Dressed  in  short  kilts, 
with  red  handkerchiefs  twisted  round  their  heads, 
and  murderous-looking  knives  stuck  in  their  belts, 
they  look  like  a  gang  of  stage  pirates.  These 
formidable  fellows  are  Kurdish  shayydls  or  porters 
— superb  specimens  of  humanity,  with  a  develop- 
ment of  shoulder  and  leg  worthy  of  a  Eodin 
statue.  They  were  the  first  of  their  race  I  saw, 
and  did  not  at  all  accord  with  my  preconceived 
idea  of  what  a  Kurd  should  be.  Instead  of  the 
dark,  brutal  faces  with  which  my  fancy  had  en- 
dowed them,  many  of  them  had  blue  eyes,  fair 
hair,  and  refined  features,  often  startlingly  Anglo- 
Saxon  in  type,  and  a  remarkable  contrast  to 
the  expressionless  Oriental  faces  of  the  crowd 
around. 

There  is  a  large  native  Christian  element, 
lineal  descendants,  some  of  them,  of  the  ancient 
Chaldeans,    and   adherents   now  of  one  or  other 


Dar-el-Khalifeh  1 29 

of  the  many  Churches  which  flourish  so  abun- 
dantly on  the  soil  of  Mesopotamia  —  Catholics, 
Jacobites,  Syrians,  Greeks,  and  Nestorians.  Be- 
sides the  ruling  Turks  —  chiefly  Government 
ofiicials — there  are  Armenians  and  representatives 
of  I  know  not  how  many  more  races,  including  a 
considerable  body  of  Indians,  either  merchants 
settled  in  trade  or  pilgrims  to  the  famous  Sunni 
shrine  of  Abd'ul  Kader. 

The  mention  of  these  last  recalls  a  rather  in- 
teresting fact  connected  with  the  duties  of  the 
British  Consul-General  at  Bagdad.  It  seems  that 
in  the  old  days  the  Honourable  East  India 
Company  once  found  themselves  badly  in  need 
of  cash.  The  King  of  Oudh,  hearing  of  this, 
oflered  to  lend  them  a  few  scores  of  lakhs  of 
rupees,  but  on  a  special  condition — namely,  that 
the  capital  sum  was  never  to  be  repaid,  but  that 
the  Company  should  undertake  to  administer 
the  interest  in  perpetuity  for  the  benefit  of 
certain  religious  charities  mentioned  in  his  will. 
These  terms  the  Company  accepted,  and  they 
and  their  successors — the  Government  of  India — 
have  loyally  fulfilled  them  ever  since.  Several 
thousands  of  pounds  annually  were  bequeathed 
in  the  royal  testament  to  the  deserving  poor  at 
Kerbela  and  Nejf,  and  this  the  British  Consul- 
General  has  to  distribute.  Twice  a  year  he 
makes  the  arduous  journey  to  the  shrines,  where 
he  presides  at  the  sittings  of  Belief  Committees, 
and  takes  such  steps  as  he  can  to  limit  the  pro- 

I 


130  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

portion  of  the  sum  which  adheres  to  the  palms 
of  the  local  mujtehids.  Returning  from  this 
errand  while  we  were  guests  in  his  house,  he 
told  how  he  had  been  importuned  by  an  im- 
pecunious Indian  who  wanted  a  job  as  a  clerk. 
Inquiries  as  to  the  applicant's  identity  and  ante- 
cedents disclosed  the  fact  that  he  was  the  great- 
grandson  of  the  last  King  of  Delhi !  Sic 
transit  .  .  . 

One  day  we  paid  the  usual  formal  visit  to  the 
Vali.  He  was  a  fine-looking  old  soldier — one  of 
the  few  Turkish  generals  who  came  through  the 
Balkan  war  with  credit.  His  talk  was  of  schemes 
for  the  development  of  his  vilayet — an  airy  project 
to  establish  a  motor-bus  service  across  the  desert 
from  Aleppo,  and  the  more  concrete  irrigation 
scheme  which  Sir  William  Willcocks  had  worked 
out  on  the  spot  some  years  before.  Ever  since 
the  days  of  that  great  reformer,  Midhat  Pasha, 
Bagdad  has  been  blessed  with  "  progressive " 
Valis ;  but  progress,  as  conceived  by  the  Ottoman 
mind,  sometimes  leads  to  queer  results.  This  was 
the  case  under  a  recent  Vali.  The  main  street 
of  the  town  was,  as  it  still  is,  extraordinarily 
narrow,  and  His  Excellency  had  the  commendable 
idea  of  having  it  widened.  His  method  was 
simple.  A  straight  line  was  drawn  to  mark  the 
new  limits  of  the  street,  and  whatever  projected 
beyond  that  line  was  shorn  off  till  it  reached  it. 
The  consequence  was  a  row  of  what  looked  like 
open  doll's  houses,  with  the  whole  of  their  internal 


Dar-el-Khalifeh  131 

economy  displayed  to  the  public  view.  An  ad- 
mirable system  of  ventilation  was,  I  believe,  the 
only  compensation  that  the  unfortunate  owners 
got. 

We  had  been  told  by  Javid  Pasha  that  a  re- 
view of  troops  was  to  be  held  on  the  following 
day  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  the  Sultan's 
accession,  so  duly  went  out  to  the  racecourse  be- 
hind the  town  to  witness  the  spectacle.  There 
were  very  few  troops  available,  and  rather  pathetic 
efforts  had  been  made  to  fill  up  numbers  with 
cadets,  boys  from  the  Industrial  School,  and  such- 
like— the  "make-weights"  even  including  a  cart 
carrying  a  crate  of  carrier-pigeons  (which  our 
Christian  dragoman  maliciously  suggested  had 
been  bought  in  the  bazaars  that  morning).  After 
the  march  past  of  the  troops  an  amusing  scene 
took  place.  The  guilds  of  Arab  craftsmen  had 
been  ordered  to  parade  with  the  rest.  They  duly 
collected  around  their  respective  banners,  and 
Turkish  officers  arrived  to  range  them  into  line. 
But  the  craftsmen,  having  no  love  for  the  Turk 
and  little  respect  for  the  Yali,  had  their  own 
programme,  and  began  to  work  up  for  a  war- 
dance.  It  started  by  some  one  intoning  a  mon- 
otonous, ever  -  repeated  chant.  One  by  one  the 
others  picked  it  up,  gradually  increasing  the  time 
and  marking  the  cadence  by  leaping  into  the  air 
on  each  leg  alternatively,  waving  meanwhile  what- 
ever weapons  they  had  in  their  hands  above  their 
heads.     Before  long  the  chanting  had  merged  into 


132  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

one  deafening  roar,  and  there  was  a  raging  mob 
of  lunatics,  brandishing  knives,  rifles,  and  sticks, 
seething  round  each  of  the  banners.  A  group 
began  to  sway  backwards  and  forwards,  then, 
without  warning,  leaderless,  and  as  if  possessed 
by  an  irresistible  common  impulse,  broke  away 
and  came  surging  wildly  across  the  ropes  right 
into  the  middle  of  the  spectators.  It  was  a  really 
alarming  sight,  and  had  we  not  been  accustomed 
to  the  innocent  eccentricities  of  an  Arab  war- 
dance  (in  peace  time),  it  would  have  needed  some 
nerve  to  save  us  from  taking  to  our  heels  in 
flight.  The  efforts  of  the  Turkish  officers  to  con- 
trol their  charges  and  bring  them  back  into  line 
were  pitiful,  and  the  whole  scene  resembled  what 
I  should  think  a  Cumberland  sheep-dog  competi- 
tion might  look  like  with  exceptionally  wild  sheep 
and  quite  untrained  collies.  For  a  moment  the 
entire  yelling  mass  would  come  dashing  forward 
in  the  most  promising  style,  when  suddenly,  and 
for  no  perceptible  reason,  it  would  abruptly  right 
about  turn  and  go  rushing  back  again.  At  last 
— by  pure  good  luck,  I  fancy — the  collie-officers 
got  them  all  heading  straight  for  the  Vali,  and 
in  one  wild  rush  they  went  past  the  saluting- 
point.  One  hoped  His  Excellency  felt  gratified  ! 
I  have  mentioned  the  distant  glimpse  we  had, 
on  nearing  Bagdad,  of  the  golden  domes  of  Kazi- 
mein.  Here  at  least  was  something  which  smacked 
of  the  Arabian  Nights,  and  I  was  full  of  curiosity 
to   get   a   nearer  view.      But   the    tombs   of  the 


Dar-el-Khalifeh  1 33 

Imams  are  so  zealously  guarded  by  the  fanatical 
Shias  who  live  round  the  shrine  that  an  infidel 
may  not  even  approach  within  sight  of  the  gates. 
Only  by  strategy  could  one  get  near  enough  to 
see,  so  when  I  was  invited  by  old  Mirza  Daoud 
to  take  tea  at  his  house  at  Kazimein,  I  accepted 
with  alacrity.  Mirza  Daoud  was  Captain  Wilson's 
confidential  servant,  and  an  old  Persian  of  great 
character.  He  had  travelled  far  and  wide  with 
his  master,  and,  like  the  traditional  British  tar, 
had  "  a  wife  in  every  port."  The  fairest  of  them 
dwelt  at  Kazimein,  and  now  after  an  absence 
of  five  years  he  had  returned  for  a  week  of  con- 
nubial bliss,  and  incidentally — as  he  naively  ex- 
plained— to  investigate  a  little  matter  of  several 
sums  of  money  which  he  had  remitted  to  her  for 
repairs,  but  which  the  fair  lady,  it  seemed,  had 
appropriated  for  her  personal  adornment,  leaving 
the  house  to  go  to  rack  and  ruin. 

On  the  appointed  day  I  set  out  for  Kazimein. 
The  first  half  of  the  journey  was  by  motor-boat 
up  the  river,  past  delightful  old  houses  and  gar- 
dens, wharves  and  warehouses,  serais  and  mosques, 
whose  blue-and-white  minarets  leaned  like  the 
tower  of  Pisa,  cofiee-shops  built  far  out  above  the 
water  to  catch  the  breeze,  and  creeks  between, 
where  high-pooped  seffinehs,  with  prodigious  out- 
rigged  rudders  and  tillers  as  large  as  a  fair-sized 
tree,  discharged  their  cargoes  of  cotton  and  brush- 
wood. A  prehistoric  horse-tram  took  me  the  rest 
of  the  way,  and  put  me  down  in  the  filthiest  and 


134  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

most  closely-packed  Eastern  town  I  ever  had  the 
misfortune  to  visit.  My  host's  house  I  found  to 
be  a  quaint  little  place  built  round  a  courtyard, 
barely  large  enough  to  contain  the  solitary  palm- 
tree  which  adorned  it.  A  flight  of  stairs — about 
which  the  less  said  the  better — led  up  to  the 
guest-room,  arranged  with  an  open  arcade  along 
the  whole  of  one  side  to  allow  the  cool  breeze  to 
blow  in  from  the  north.  After  absorbing  several 
cups  of  sweet  Persian  tea  out  of  a  cup  which 
adjured  one  to  "  Love  the  Giver "  (a  fine  testi- 
mony to  the  penetration  of  British  trade),  and 
listening  to  the  old  fellow's  yarns  of  his  adven- 
tures with  his  Captain  Sahib  in  the  wilds  of 
Luristan,  I  proposed  an  excursion  to  see  the 
domes.  Mirza  Daoud  had  a  friend  who  kept  a 
caravanserai  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  tomb, 
so  to  him  we  w^ent  and  asked  permission  to  go 
on  to  his  roof  The  friend  proved  complaisant, 
and  after  one  moment  of  awful  suspense,  when, 
having  deprived  me,  as  a  measure  of  precaution, 
of  my  ferenglii  hat,  he  appeared  to  be  on  the 
point  of  clapping  his  own  turban  on  my  defence- 
less pate,  we  were  allowed  to  climb  up.  There,  a 
couple  of  hundred  yards  away,  we  saw  the  famous 
domes,  flanked  by  their  attendant  minarets,  glowing 
in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun.  At  that  distance 
the  surface  was  not  easily  distinguishable  without 
the  aid  of  glasses,  which  it  would  have  been  rash 
to  use  in  such  an  exposed  position ;  but  it  seemed 
to   me  that  the  whole   of  either   dome   and  the 


The  Riverside  at  TKiodad. 


The  Edge  of-  the  Desert. 


Dar-el-Khalifeh  1 35 

upper  quarter  or  so  of  each  minaret  were  plated 
with  scales  of  the  precious  metal  laid  on  like  tiles. 
The  effect,  I  must  confess,  made  more  appeal  to 
the  imagination  than  to  the  eye,  and  my  material 
Western  mind  was  rather  engaged  in  a  sordid 
speculation  as  to  the  value  of  the  gold  than  in 
any  attempts  to  judge  of  its  artistic  effect.  What 
the  figure  may  be  I  have  no  notion,  but  it  must 
be  something  prodigious. 

As  we  threaded  our  way  home  through  the 
narrow  streets,  I  asked  my  companion  who  the 
author  of  such  munificence  had  been ;  he  told  me 
it  was  some  ancient  king  of  Persia  who  had  made 
ziaret  to  the  tomb.  Just  then  we  passed  the  city 
gates,  through  which  trickled  a  thin  stream  of 
pilgrims.  Here  they  were,  after  weeks  or  months 
of  tramping,  arriving,  as  it  were,  at  the  very  gates 
of  Rome,  and  I  scanned  their  faces  for  some  trace 
of  the  emotions  which  a  man  might  show  at  such 
a  crisis ;  but  none  of  the  religious  fervour  that 
moved  the  old  Shah  to  his  lavish  deed  was  visible 
in  them,  no  flash  of  eye  or  quickening  of  step, 
nothing  in  their  bearing  but  a  tired  indifference. 

One  last  impression  of  Bagdad  remains  firmly 
fixed  in  my  memory.  We  were  watching  the 
sunset  from  the  terrace  of  the  Eesidency  on  the 
evening  of  our  departure.  A  pearly -blue  haze 
hung  down-stream,  broken  only  by  the  yellow 
mass  of  a  big  Turkish  palace  built  on  the  bank  a 
little  further  down.  Up-stream  the  contrast  was 
extraordinary.      An    arch    of  liquid    orange    light 


136  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

curved  above  the  horizon,  its  zenith  directly  above 
the  river.  Tawny  reflections  fell  on  the  river's 
surface,  and  battling  with  the  shadows  among  the 
ripples,  turned  it  all  into  a  silken  glory  of  shot 
blue  and  gold.  Palms  on  the  banks  and  masts 
of  ships  stood  in  sharp  relief  against  the  sunset, 
as  hard  as  the  landscapes  in  bronze  on  Ghilberti's 
doors  in  Florence.  There  was  hardly  a  movement 
or  a  sound  to  break  the  peace.  Suddenly  a  Ger- 
man tug  came  round  the  bend,  loaded  with  iron 
rails  for  the  "Berlin-Bagdad"  Railway,  forged  up 
the  reach,  steered  for  the  opposite  bank,  and  a 
moment  later  shattered  the  air  with  the  dese- 
crating clatter  and  roar  of  her  anchor  -  chains. 
How  clear  an  omen,  had  we  but  known  it ! 

That   nio-ht   we  left   Bao^dad   on   the   Khanikin 
mail  on  our  way  back  to  the  frontier. 


137 


CHAPTER    IX. 

MESOPOTAMIA   IN   RETROSPECT. 

Before  following  our  travels  into  Kurdistan,  I 
propose  for  the  space  of  one  chapter  to  arrest  my 
narrative,  and  look  back  at  the  immense  plains 
of  Lower  Mesopotamia  from  a  more  general  point 
of  view  than  that  of  the  mere  traveller.  At  the 
time  at  which  I  am  writing  even  the  hardest 
political  prophet  reserves  his  prognostications  con- 
cerning the  future  of  this  region.  But  of  this 
one  may  be  fairly  sure  that,  whatever  happens, 
our  connection  with  it  must  be  strengthened  rather 
than  diminished  now  that  British  soldiers  have 
fought  and  died  on  its  soil. 

The  potentialities  of  this  huge  treasure-house 
of  Nature,  sealed  through  a  thousand  years  of 
ignorance  and  misrule,  and  waiting  only  the  "  open 
sesame "  of  the  modern  irrigation  engineer  to 
unlock  again  its  portals  and  supply  food  for  half  a 
continent,  has  been  insisted  upon  by  writers  galore, 
and  if  any  material  guarantee  were  needed  of  the 
truth  of  what  they  say,  the  capital  sunk  in  the 


138  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

Bagdad  railway  and  the  Mesopotamian  irrigation 
scheme  amply  provide  it.  I  will  therefore  content 
myself  with  repeating  what  was  said  of  it  in  an 
official  report  made  many  years  ago  to  the  British 
Government,  that  "  it  produces  all  the  grains  of 
Europe  in  abundance,  together  with  rice,  maize, 
sugar,  cotton,  indigo,  mulberry  for  silk,  and  every 
sort  of  fruit  in  profusion  "  ;  to  which  list  may  now 
be  added  that  substance  of  incalculable  future 
value,  petroleum  oil.  Innumerable  traces  of  an- 
cient canal  systems  which  scar  the  whole  face  of 
the  land  must  stir  the  imagination  of  even  the 
merest  layman,  and  turn  his  mind  to  speculating 
on  the  changes  which  will  result  if  stable  govern- 
ment and  scientific  methods  are  ever  reintroduced. 

Even  with  things  as  they  are,  however,  Lower 
Mesopotamia  is,  and  has  been  for  a  very  long  time, 
an  important  market  for  European  and  Indian  trade. 
British  merchants  were  established  at  the  head  of 
the  Persian  Gulf  before  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  not  very  long  after  they  first 
attained  a  footing  in  India,  and  the  history  of 
their  first  settlement,  and  the  subsequent  devel- 
opment of  our  trade  in  the  country,  form  a  tale 
worth  tellinc;-. 

Actually  the  first  commercial  relations  between 
Eno^land  and  the  countries  round  the  Persian  Gulf 
came  about  in  the  most  roundabout  way  imagin- 
able. A  society  of  gentlemen  and  merchants, 
formed  for  the  discovery  of  unknown  countries, 
equipped  in  1553  a  fleet  of  three  ships,  the  Bona 


Mesopotamia  in  Retrospect         139 

Esperanza,  the  Edivard  Bonaventure,  and  the 
Bona  Conjidentia,  under  the  command  of  Sir 
Hugh  Willoughby  and  Mr  Eichard  Chancellor,  to 
try  and  find  a  passage  along  the  north  of  Siberia 
to  China.  After  terrible  sufterings,  in  the  course 
of  which  poor  Sir  Hugh  and  the  entire  companies 
of  two  of  the  ships  were  frozen  to  death,  the 
survivors  reached  Archangel,  and  Mr  Chancellor 
found  his  way  to  Moscow,  where,  supported  by 
letters  from  Edward  VI.,  King  of  England,  he 
obtained  privileges  which  led  to  the  creation  of 
the  Russia  Company. 

Three  years  later  four  more  ships  were  sent, 
and  one  intrepid  Englishman  of  the  name  of 
Jenkinson  penetrated  as  far  as  Bokhara  and 
Persia,  where  he  is  said  to  have  met  with  mer- 
chants from  India  and  Cathay.  This  journey 
he  accomplished  seven  times,  trading  later  with 
Russia  and  Persia.  The  only  European  competi- 
tors in  the  field  seem  to  have  been  the  Venetians, 
whose  cloths,  drugs,  &c.,  came  overland  by  Aleppo. 
The  war  between  Turkey  and  Persia  which  was 
then  raging  interfered,  however,  with  this  cir- 
cuitous trade  route,  and  by  1581  the  enterprise 
had  ceased  altogether.  Certainly  those  old  six- 
teenth-century traders  well  earned  their  names 
of  *'  merchant  adventurers." 

It  was  another  and  far  more  celebrated  "  Com- 
pany "  which  next  established  a  connection  between 
England  and  Chaldea.  In  1614 — that  is,  two  years 
after    they   had    set   up    their   first   "factory"   in 


140  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

India — the  Honourable  East  India  Company  turned 
their  attention  to  Persia  and  the  Gulf.  The  origin 
of  this  adventure  was  again  rather  out  of  the 
ordinary.  A  certain  Mr  Eichard  Steele  went  to 
Aleppo  to  recover  a  debt  from  a  merchant  of 
that  city.  The  merchant — who  must  have  had 
a  wholesome  fear  of  his  creditor — fled  through 
Persia  to  India,  pursued  by  Mr  Steele,  who, 
having  reached  Surat,  made  a  report  to  the 
East  India  Company  on  the  great  opportunities 
awaiting  them  in  trade  with  Persia.  The 
Company  acted  on  his  hint,  and  there  began  the 
great  struggle  for  supremacy  in  the  Gulf  with  the 
Portuguese. 

A  factory  was  started  about  1630  at  Gomroon 
(Bunder  Abbas),  and  in  1639  the  Presidency  of 
Surat  sent  two  of  their  agents  to  Bussorah,  as 
it  was  then  always  called,  in  order  to  establish 
another  on  Turkish  soil  out  of  reach  of  the 
oppressive  measures  (due  partly  to  the  influence 
of  their  Dutch  rivals)  to  which  they  were  sub- 
jected in  Persia. 

Of  the  earliest  days  of  the  Basra  factory  no 
records  have  survived,  but  in  1646  Thomas  Cogan 
and  W.  Weale  write  from  that  place  to  their 
"worshipful  and  much-respected  friends"  at  Surat. 
Trade  is  not  brisk,  for  "  the  pepper  is  all  landed, 
but  not  a  merchant  will  profler  more  than  three 
rupees,  which,  if  we  would  make  sale  of  it  at 
all,  at  that  price  it  should  go,  but  they  who 
profler  it  will  not  have  more  than  three  or  four 


Mesopotamia  in  Retrospect         141 

maunds  at  most,  so  that  perforce  we  must  keep 
it ;  we  hope  for  a  better  time/'  also,  "  the  bhie 
cloth  remains  still  in  house,  nor  yet  any  offering 
to  buy."  Again  in  1661  two  of  the  Company's 
gentlemen  are  sent  on  board  the  frigate  America, 
"  now  by  God's  permission  bound  from  Swally 
Hole  unto  the  port  of  Bussorah,  within  the  river 
Euphrates " ;  they  are  enjoined  to  salute  the 
Bashaw  and  ask  for  a  better  house  than  he  had 
hitherto  provided  for  the  storage  of  the  cloth, 
pepper,  cassia,  lignum,  rice,  &c.,  which  they  were 
bringing  with  them  as  merchandise. 

In  the  January  of  this  year  a  document  had 
been  signed  at  Adrianople  which  had  the  most 
important  results  for  our  trade  in  Mesopotamia, 
as  well  as  in  every  other  part  of  the  Ottoman 
dominions.  This  document,  which  consisted  of 
the  first  Capitulations  between  the  King  of  Eng- 
land and  the  Sultan,  is  conceived  in  the  exalted 
phraseology  of  the  Sublime  Porte,  and  commences 
thus  : 

"  By  the  favour  of  the  Nourisher  of  all  things 
and  mercy  and  grace  of  the  Merciful,  I  that  am 
the  powerful  Lord  of  Lords  of  the  World,  whose 
name  is  formidable  upon  Earth,  Giver  of  all  Crowns 
of  the  Universe,  Sultan  Mahomed  Khan. 

"  To  the  glorious  amongst  the  great  Princes  of 
Jesus,  reverenced  by  the  high  potentates  of  the 
people  of  the  Messiah,  sole  director  of  the  im- 
portant affairs  of  the  Nazarene  nation.  Lord  of 
the  Limits  of  Decency  and  Honor  of  Greatness  and 


142  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

Fame,  Charles  the  Second,  King  of  England  and 
Scotland,  whose  end  and  enterprise  may  the  omni- 
potent God  conclude  with  bliss  and  favour  with 
the  illumination  of  his  holy  will." 

It  is  hard  to  believe  that  even  Sultan  Mahomed's 
stern  eye  can  have  been  quite  innocent  of  a  sly 
twinkle  when  he  dubbed  the  Merry  Monarch  with 
this  most  ambiguous  title. 

These  capitulations  (the  Sultans  of  those  days 
would  not  demean  themselves  to  the  level  of 
Christian  monarchs  by  concluding  treaties  with 
them)  assured  many  advantages  to  English  mer- 
chants. To  name  a  few,  there  was  to  be  freedom 
of  travel  and  freedom  for  ships  to  trade,  with  a 
fixed  import  duty  of  3  per  cent,  protection  in  law- 
suits, a  stipulation  that  Englishmen  should  not  be 
slaves,  provision  against  pirates,  and  a  "most 
favoured  nation"  clause. 

There  is  little  to  tell  about  the  development 
of  the  East  India  Company  in  Mesopotamia  for 
the  next  seventy  years.  Basra  remained  the  only 
factory,  but  trade  flowed  thence  northwards  and 
eastwards  by  the  boats  to  Bagdad  and  the  Aleppo 
caravans.  One  of  the  factors'  chief  duties  was  to 
forward  to  India  the  letters  and  news  which 
arrived  by  the  latter  route,  and  their  letters  to 
Bombay  are  often  a  quaint  jumble  containing 
scraps  of  such  news  as  the  death  of  the  King 
of  England,  or  the  signing  of  peace  with  Spain, 
sandwiched  in  between  their  trade  accounts.  In 
1733  there  was  war  between  Turkey  and  Persia 


Mesopotamia  in  Retrospect         143 

over  the  deposition  of  "  Shaw  Thomas/'  as  the 
then  Shah  is  called  in  the  correspondence.  The 
Persians,  who  had  taken  Basra,  tried  to  draw  in 
the  Company  and  secure  the  help  of  their  ships, 
but  apparently  without  success.  Life  must  have 
been  precarious  in  those  days  at  Basra ;  for  besides 
the  frequent  attacks  on  the  town  by  the  Arabs 
of  the  surrounding  desert,  it  was  periodically 
visited  by  the  plague.  The  Diary  of  the  Bombay 
Council  for  1738  contains,  for  instance,  the  follow- 
ing laconic  statement :  "  There  has  been  a  general 
sickness  at  Bussorah,  by  which  all  the  English 
gentlemen  were  carried  off  except  one,  Mr  Sterling, 
who  prudently  sealed  up  the  warehouses  till  some 
one  should  arrive  to  take  charge."  In  return  for 
such  risks  they  drew  munificent  salaries  of  from 
£5  to  £30  per  annum,  but  it  is  to  be  presumed 
that  their  chief  profits  came  through  their  private 
trading.  There  seems,  at  the  same  time,  to  have 
been  occasional  perquisites  of  a  sort  to  go  some 
way  towards  compensating  the  factors  for  their 
discomforts  and  exiguous  pay.  Mr  Shaw,  for 
example,  whom  we  find  representing  the  Company 
at  Basra  in  1754,  reports  that  "  about  twenty  days 
past  I  was  surprised  with  a  very  singular  instance 
of  Solyman  Bashaw's  (of  Bagdad)  respect  and 
regard  for  the  English,  he  having  despatched 
hither  a  very  principal  officer  of  his  household 
purposely  to  salute  me  in  his  name,  who  arrived 
after  a  passage  of  thirty-five  days,  and  by  him 
sent  me  a  fine  Turkish  sabre  with  a  very  noble 


144  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

horse,^  riclily  caparisoned  with  gilt  furniture, 
with  very  extraordinary  letters  of  compliments 
from  the  Bashaw,  his  First  Minister  and  Master 
of  Household,  expressing  the  particular  satisfac- 
tion they  received  from  the  regular  decent  con- 
duct of  our  nation  at  all  times."  Mr  Shaw  found 
himself  obliged  to  reward  the  bearer  of  these  gifts 
with  a  fur  coat,  "being  informed  that  such  was 
the  custom  observed  among  Turkish  courtiers,"  but 
hopes  he  has  his  Hon'ble  Employer's  liberty  to 
charge  its  cost  to  their  account  I 

In  1749,  after  a  period  of  unrest  occasioned  by 
the  arrival  at  Basra  of  a  new  Bashaw,  whose  first 
act  w^as  to  cut  off  the  heads  of  twelve  of  the 
principal  "  zanysarees,"  to  which  the  populace 
replied  by  seizing  ten  field  -  pieces  out  of  the 
magazine  and  levelling  the  Bashaw's  house  with 
the  ground,  trade  again  began  to  boom,  and  the 
Eesident  is  able  to  write  as  follows  :  "  On  the  28th 
ultimo  sailed  the  Prince  Edivard  for  Bombay  with 
a  small  freight.  She  has  made  the  greatest  sales 
that  ever  was  known  to  be  made  at  this  port, 
which  good  news,  together  with  that  of  a  general 
peace,  wall,  I  hope,  make  the  Bengalees  think  of 
again  reviving  their  trade  to  this  place." 

At  first  the  only  competitors  with  the  British 
merchants  seem  to  have  been  the  Dutch,  but  in 
1755  one  "Monsieur  Padree  "  arrives  at  Basra  and 
is  established  as  French  Besident.      The  records 

1  Some  of  the  finest  arabs  are  bred  on  the  Upper  Tigris,  particu- 
larly round  Mosul.     There  is  an  important  horse  trade  with  Bombay. 


Mesopotamia  in  Retrospect         145 

of  the  subsequent  years  do  not,  I  fear,  hint  at 
great  cordiality  between  the  representatives  of  the 
two  nations  in  Mesopotamia,  but  as  the  factors 
were  perpetually  having  rows  with  the  Turks  and 
each  other,  and  there  was  hardly  one  whose  career 
in  that  country  did  not  close  under  a  cloud  of 
some  sort,  it  is  only  fair  to  attribute  this  state 
of  things  in  large  part  to  the  notoriously  fervid 
climate. 

The  parent  factory  at  Gombroon  was  in  1763 
removed  to  Basra,  which  now  became  correspond- 
ingly more  important ;  and  in  the  following  year 
the  Ambassador  at  Constantinople  announces  that 
he  has  obtained  from  the  Sublime  Porte  a  herat 
for  the  creation  of  a  Consulate  at  Basra,  Mr  Robert 
Garden  being  the  first  Consul.  The  Consulate  at 
Baofdad  was  not  established  till  1802. 

A  terrible  epidemic  of  plague  swept  Turkish 
Arabia  in  1774,  carrying  off,  it  was  estimated,  two 
millions  of  the  inhabitants.  Before  trade  had 
begun  to  recover  after  this  calamity  another  war 
broke  out  between  Turkey  and  Persia,  and  the 
Persians  once  more  captured  Basra,  and  held  it 
till  1779.  The  Wahabi  Movement,  meanwhile, 
from  its  cradle  in  Central  Arabia,  was  rapidly 
spreading,  and  by  the  end  of  the  century  had 
reached  the  borders  of  Mesopotamia.  In  1801 
these  fiercely  fanatical  "  reformers  "  of  Islam  over- 
ran the  country,  and  sacked  the  great  Shia  shrines 
at  Kerbela,  as  they  had  already  done  with  the 
shrines  at  Mecca  and   Medina.      Peace  was   not 

K 


146  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

restored  till  the  Wahabis  had  been  trodden  under 
by  the  relentless  heel  of  Ibrahim  Pasha  with  his 
Egyptian  troops. 

As  time  went  on  the  political,  as  distinct  from 
the  purely  commercial,  aspect   of  our   connection 
with  Mesopotamia  became  more  pronounced,  and 
in  1812  the  post  of  "Political  Eesident  in  Turkish 
Arabia  "  was  created  by  the  Honourable  the  Court 
of  Directors  of  the  East  India  Company  in   con- 
formity with  a   recommendation   by  the   Govern- 
ment   of  India.      Mr  Eich    first   filled   the   post, 
residing  at    Bagdad,  with   Captain  Taylor  as  his 
assistant  at  Basra.     Before  very  long  the  inevitable 
conflict    between    economy    and    expansion    arose. 
The   Resident  at    Bagdad   needed  a   large  sepoy 
guard  for  his  protection  (once  at  least  the  Resi- 
dency was  besieged),  and  in  1834  a  proposal  was 
made  to  abolish  the  post  and  maintain  only  the 
Political  Agency  for  the  Persian  Gulf  at  Bushire. 
Lord  Clare,  Governor  of  Bombay,  pointed  out  the 
larger  aspects  of  the  question   of  our  position  in 
Turkish  Arabia,  and  how  deeply  Indian  interests 
were   concerned.       His    view    prevailed,    and   the 
Residency  has  remained  till  to-day.     The  ofiicial 
attitude  towards  it  of  recent  years  may  be  gauged 
by  the  fact   that   a   large  new    residence   for  our 
representative  was  erected  a  few  years  ago  at  a 
cost  of  some  £20,000. 

The  first  efforts  to  establish  a  regular  overland 
route  for  the  Indian  mail  via  Syria  and  the  Persian 


Mesopotamia  in  Retrospect         147 

Gulf  were  made  in  1834.  For  the  purpose  of  this 
scheme  Parliament  voted  a  grant  of  £20,000  for 
the  construction  of  two  steamers  to  ply  on  the 
Euphrates.  The  necessary  arrangements  were 
made  with  the  Turkish  Government,  and  Colonel 
Chesney  arrived  at  "  Port  William "  (Meskeneh), 
on  the  Euphrates,  and  put  together  the  boats 
which  had  been  sent  out  in  bits.  Having  com- 
pleted this  task,  he  made  a  survey  of  the  river, 
and  on  18th  June  1836  addressed  the  following 
jubilant  communication  to  the  President  of  the 
Board  of  Trade  : — 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  inform  you  that  this 
vessel  (the  Euphrates)  reached  the  junction  of  the 
rivers  during  the  afternoon  of  this  day,  so  memor- 
able for  ever  in  the  annals  of  England.  We  are 
now  about  forty-three  miles  from  Basra,  and  have 
completed  the  survey  and  descent  of  the  splendid 
river  Euphrates.  The  officers  and  men  are  in 
good  spirits,  having  arrived  here  without  any 
difficulty  or  annoyance." 

But  the  enterprise,  alas  !  was  not  doomed  to  go 
through  so  happily,  for  during  a  heavy  squall  the 
sister  ship  —  the  Tigris  —  upset  and  foundered, 
drowning  two  army  officers  and  twelve  other 
Europeans.  Three  more  steamers  were  soon  after 
sent  out,  one  of  which,  the  Assyria,  under  Captain 
Felix  Jones,  made  the  first  ascent  of  the  Karim 
river,  surmounted  the  cataract  at  Ahwaz,  with  the 
help  of  rows  of  men  on  the  shore  pulling  on  ropes, 


148  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

and  went  as  far  as  Shuster.  It  was  not  till  1888, 
however,  that  the  Persian  Government  opened  the 
Karun  to  general  navigation,  when  Messrs  Lynch 
and  Messrs  Grey  Mackenzie  (still  two  of  the  most 
prominent  shipping  firms  on  the  Shatt-el-Arab)  at 
once  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  and  ran 
vessels  up  to  Ahwaz.  It  may  not  be  inappropriate 
to  insert  here  a  quotation  from  Lord  Curzon's 
standard  work  on  Persia,  a  propos  of  the  great 
potential  trade-route  into  the  interior  of  Persia 
thus  inaugurated,  it  being  a  question  which  par- 
ticularly appealed  to  his  attention. 

"  The  great  merit  of  the  route  when  opened  and 
organised,  from  a  British  point  of  view,  will  be 
that  the  cities  and  villages  of  West  and  South- 
West  Persia — Dizful,  Khurremabad,  Burujird  with 
17,000  inhabitants,  and  with  a  surrounding  plain 
of  great  productiveness,  Sultanabad,  the  centre  of 
the  carpet  industry,  and  their  dependent  districts, 
which  are  among  the  richest  corn-growing  lands 
in  Persia — will  be  brought  within  easy  access  of 
the  Gulf,  whilst  their  inhabitants  will  thereby  be 
drawn  into  the  mesh  of  the  Lancashire  cotton- 
spinner  and  the  Hindu  artisan.  Kermanshah 
with  its  60,000  people,  and  Hamadan  with  15,000, 
at  present  only  served  by  the  Turkish  route  from 
Bagdad,  will  also  be  brought  within  the  southern 
zone  of  influence,  and  will  swell  the  profits  of 
Manchester  and  Bombay."  Lord  Curzon  wrote 
this  in  the  'nineties,  since  when  the  preliminary 
survey  for  a  railway  line  from  Ahwaz  to  Khur- 


Mesopotamia  in  Retrospect         149 

remabad  has  brought  the  existence  of  such  a  trade- 
route  a  step  nearer  to  reahsation. 

Since  the  dissolution  of  the  East  India  Company 
at  the  close  of  the  Indian  Mutiny,  British  interests 
have  steadily  grown,  both  in  the  Persian  Gulf 
and  Turkish  Arabia.  The  connection  between  our 
position  there  and  the  security  of  India  has  become 
more  and  more  evident.  We  have  long  played 
the  thankless  part  of  policeman  in  the  Gulf,  to 
the  great  discomfiture  of  pirate,  slave-trader,  and 
gun-runner  alike,  and  have  followed  a  consistent 
policy  of  making  friendly  treaties  with  the  chiefs 
of  the  Arab  tribes  which  live  along  its  shores. 
One  of  the  more  recent  of  these  agreements  has 
been  with  the  semi-independent  Sheikh  of  Koweit, 
a  small  town  some  sixty  miles  from  the  mouth  of 
the  Shatt-el-Arab,  but  of  particular  importance  as 
being  the  one  and  only  seaport  at  the  head  of  the 
Gulf.  With  the  Sheikh  of  Mohammerah,  too,  we 
have  cultivated  very  cordial  relations  ever  since 
he  came  into  power. 

Several  new  factors  on  a  very  large  scale  have 
been  imported  of  quite  recent  years  into  the 
situation  in  Lower  Mesopotamia,  but  so  much  has 
been  written  about  them  already  that  I  will  do 
hardly  more  than  enumerate  them.  First  of  all, 
of  course,  the  Bagdad  railway.  The  concession 
for  this  stupendous  scheme  was  signed  in  1899, 
the  year  after  the  Kaiser's  visit  to  Constantinople, 
but  by  the  beginning  of  the  present  war  the 
engineers    were    still    held    up   before    the   great 


150  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

barrier    of   the    Taurus,    though    the    completion 
of    the    principal    tunnel    was    reported    in    the 
autumn    of  1915.      At  the    time    of  our  visit   to 
Bagdad   the    line    was    being    carried    northward 
from    there,    and     soon     after    reached     Samara, 
seventy  miles  up  the  Tigris  :  the  general  estimate 
then   seemed  to  be  that  at  the  rate  of  progress 
work  was  carried  on  at,  the  line  would  scarcely 
join  up  at  Mosul  in  less  than  four  or  five  years' 
time.     The  Bagdad  railway  possesses,  of  course, 
a  whole  literature  of  its  own,  and  one  that  is  by 
no  means  lacking  in  dramatic  incident.     The  story 
of  Germany's  daring  intrigues  and  plots  to  obtain 
a   footing  at  Koweit — the  ideal  terminus   on  the 
Gulf— and  their  frustration  on  each  occasion  by 
the  timely  but  unexpected    arrival  of  a  British 
gunboat  in  the  harbour  (as  related  in  '  The  Times ' 
History  of  the  War),  has  all  the  elements  of  a 
stirring  schoolboy  romance.     The  whole  question 
of  the    railway,  with   its    projected   extension   to 
Basra  or  the  shores  of  the  Gulf,  is  obviously  one 
of  those  bewilderingly  complicated  problems  with 
which    our    statesmen   and    diplomatists    will    be 
faced  at  the  end  of  the  war. 

The  oil  question,  although  it  was  one  of  the 
principal  factors  in  bringing  about  the  Meso- 
potamian  campaign,  is  in  origin  a  Persian  rather 
than  a  Turkish  affair.  In  1901  an  Englishman 
obtained  from  the  Persian  Government  a  con- 
cession which  gave  him  the  monopoly  of  exploiting 
most  of  the  oil-fields  in  the  Empire.     Eight  years 


Mesopotamia  in  Retrospect         151 

later  the  concession  passed  to  a  Company  named 
the  Anglo-Persian  Oil  Company,  which  started 
to  work  with  great  energy  to  develop  its  re- 
sources. Oil  was  "  proved "  in  a  number  of 
diiferent  places,  and  the  first  important  wells 
were  sunk  at  Kasr-i-Sherin,  rather  more  than  a 
hundred  miles  east  of  Bagdad.  The  transport 
of  oil  from  these  wells,  situated  so  far  from  any 
port,  represented  a  serious  difficulty,  and  their 
output  has  been  only  used  till  now  to  supply 
local  needs  ;  but  when  a  supply  was  tapped  at 
Ahwaz  within  reach  of  the  Gulf,  a  pipe-line  was 
laid  down  to  the  Shatt-el-Arab,  and  the  great 
Abadan  refinery,  which  I  have  already  described, 
erected.  The  discussion  in  Parliament  and  the 
newspapers  caused  by  the  announcement  that  the 
Government,  by  the  advice  of  the  Admiralty,  had 
acquired  two  million  pounds'  worth  of  shares  in 
the  company  will  probably  be  remembered  by 
most  readers.  With  the  help  of  the  new  capital 
a  fresh  pipe  was  to  have  been  laid  down  in  order 
to  double  the  output,  when  the  war  interfered. 
The  old  pipe  was  cut  by  the  Turks  early  in  1915, 
but  after  the  successful  operations  of  General 
Gorringe's  column  from  Ahwaz  the  enemy  were 
driven  far  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  line  and 
it  was  restored  to  working  order. 

A  third  event  which,  though  it  seemed  com- 
paratively fruitless  at  the  time,  may  in  the  end 
have  larger  consequences  than  any,  was  the 
action  of  the  Turkish  Government  some  five  years 


152  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

ago  in  calling  in  Sir  William  Willcocks  to  prepare 
a  gigantic  scheme  of  irrigation  and  drainage  to 
include  all  Lower  Mesopotamia.  In  spite  of  no 
small  difficulties  from  provincial  officials  and 
unruly  local  Arabs,  Sir  William  was  able  to  com- 
plete the  task.  The  estimated  cost  of  carrying 
the  project  into  execution  was  something  like 
£20,000,000,  a  sum  far  beyond  the  range  of  the 
Turkish  exchequer,  and  hardly  likely  to  be  con- 
tributed in  the  form  of  foreign  loans  considering 
the  unsettled  state  of  Irak.  To  convey  some  idea 
of  the  huge  area  involved,  I  quote  from  Sir 
William  Willcocks's  report  on  the  irrigation  of 
Mesopotamia.  "  The  true  delta  of  the  Euphrates 
and  Tigris  comprises,"  he  says,  "  the  country 
traversed  by  the  two  rivers  and  their  branches 
southwards  of  Hitt  on  the  Euphrates  and  Samara 
on  the  Tigris."  This  means  a  distance  as  the 
crow  flies  of  400  miles  from  N.W.  to  S.E.,  and  a 
superficies  of  some  12,000,000  acres,  more  than 
half  of  which,  it  is  calculated,  could  be  brought 
under  cultivation.  In  view  of  the  network  of 
ancient  canals  which  covers  the  face  of  the  land, 
Sir  William  is  careful  to  point  out  that  "  never 
in  the  history  of  Mesopotamia  has  the  whole 
country  been  under  irrigation  at  one  and  the 
same  time."  The  volume  of  water,  great  as  it  is, 
would  not  suffice.  Some  of  the  old  canals  date 
from  Babylonian  times,  others  only  from  the 
prosperous  era  of  the  Caliphate ;  and  nowadays, 
with  the    much   deeper  draught  of  vessels,  it  is 


Mesopotamia  in  Retrospect         153 

necessary,  of  course,  to  keep  a  greater  depth  of 
water  in  the  river-beds  themselves.  Some  of 
the  old  works  were,  nevertheless,  of  astounding 
mao-nitude — witness  the  Nahrwan  Canal,  which 
dates  from  Chaldean  days,  and  had  a  total  length 
of  about  300  miles  along  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Tigris.  Its  breadth,  over  long  stretches,  was  from 
100  to  150  yards,  and  its  depth  40  to  50  feet — 
dimensions  which  exceed  anything  to  be  found  in 
India  and  Egypt.  This  single  canal  carried  such 
a  quantity  of  water  that  it  must,  in  Sir  William's 
opinion,  have  seriously  crippled  the  Tigris.  The 
ruin  of  the  Nahrwan  was  brought  about  by  the 
Tigris  changing  its  bed,  owing  to  artificial  in- 
fluences, and  striking  eastward  till  it  cut  right 
into  the  canal  itself,  producing  inevitably  a  fearful 
cataclysm  when  it  did  so. 

The  delta  seems  to  have  come  to  ruin  and 
devastation  less  from  neglect  than  from  excess  of 
zeal,  the  wholesale,  unscientific  irrigation  of  the 
soil  having  eventually  dissipated  the  life-giving 
water  and  led  to  disastrous  changes  of  level  and 
the  silting  up  of  the  proper  channels.  The  water- 
logged condition  of  parts  of  the  Egyptian  delta 
which  necessitated  such  expensive  drainage  opera- 
tions a  year  or  two  ago  is  proof  enough  how 
easily  a  virtue  may  be  exaggerated  into  a  vice 
even  in  modern  systems  of  irrigation. 

The  scheme  which  Sir  William  Willcocks  worked 
out  for  the  regeneration  of  Lower  Mesopotamia 
will,  if  it  is  ever  fully  applied,  afi^ect  an  area  of 


154  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

over  three  milhon  acres.  To  a  great  extent  the 
old  system  of  canals  will  be  made  use  of,  includ- 
ing the  great  Nahrwan,  The  scheme,  of  course, 
deals  with  very  many  problems  besides  the  mere 
conveyance  of  water  from  one  or  other  of  the 
rivers  to  given  tracts  of  desert.  It  includes  the 
utilisation  of  huge  natural  reservoirs  which,  being 
connected  with  the  rivers  by  "  escapes,"  will  store 
up  the  surplus  volume  of  water  which  comes  down 
in  the  spring  spates  when  the  snows  have  melted 
on  the  far-off  mountains  of  Armenia,  the  con- 
struction of  numberless  "drains"  to  prevent 
waterlogging  and  the  great  waste  of  the  marshes, 
and  all  the  elaborate  apparatus  of  barrages,  weirs, 
regulators,  dams,  flood-banks,  and  so  forth,  that 
modern  irrigation  implies.  Finally,  it  is  proposed 
to  keep  up  the  level  of  the  Tigris  for  the  purposes 
of  navigation — a  most  essential  point,  as  it  is 
already  so  low  at  certain  seasons  that  only  very 
shallow  draught  steamers  can  get  up — by  building 
regulating  heads  at  the  mouth  of  three  branches 
which  lead  off  it  and  are  largely  responsible  for 
the  trouble,  their  beds  being  lower  than  that  of 
the  Tigris  itself  The  opening  of  the  Hindieh 
barrage  in  1914  was  the  first-fruits  of  the  scheme. 
The  barrage  diverts  water  from  the  Hindieh  into 
the  Hilleh  branches  of  the  Euphrates  (the  latter, 
which  passes  close  to  Babylon,  had  become  silted 
up),  and  irrigates  once  more  a  large  area  of  country 
which  had  long  fallen  out  of  cultivation.  All  the 
work  connected  with  the  barrage  was  carried  out 


Mesopotamia  in  Retrospect         155 

by  a  great  English  firm  of  contractors — namely, 
that  of  Sir  John  Jackson. 

To  come,  lastly,  to  the  modern  successors  of  the 
factors  of  the  East  India  Company,  who  were 
for  so  long  the  representatives  of  our  nation  in 
Mesopotamia.  The  Englishman  of  to-day  whose 
lot  is  cast  on  the  banks  of  the  Tigris  lives,  one 
need  hardly  say,  under  far  pleasanter  conditions 
than  those  old  pioneers  who,  according  to  the 
records,  passed  their  existence  in  such  a  peppery 
atmosphere  both  in  the  literal  and  metaphorical 
sense.  In  each  of  the  three  towns  which  boast 
an  English  population,  Mohammerah,  Basra,  and 
Bagdad,  there  is  a  flourishing  English  club  (I  am 
speaking,  naturally,  of  normal  times  of  peace),  and 
Englishmen  foregather  to  race,  play  cricket,  tennis, 
and  golf  as  they  do  all  the  world  over.  While  at 
Mohammerah  the  Anglo  -  Persian  Oil  Company 
contributes  the  largest  section  of  the  colony,  the 
Basra  colony  are  chiefly  merchants  engaged  in  the 
shipping  of  dates.  Half  a  million  pounds'  worth 
of  this  fruit  in  its  dried  state  is  exported  on  an 
average  every  year  from  Basra.  The  dates  are 
not  the  dessert  variety  packed  seductively  in 
double  rows  in  an  oval  wooden  box, — those  come 
from  Tunis  and  Algiers, — but  are  mostly  of  the 
humbler  sort  which  you  see  crushed  out  of  all 
recognition  on  a  coster's  barrow.  The  trade  is 
principally  in  the  hands  of  Europeans,  and  the 
first  shipments  of  the  season  from  Basra  are 
attended  with  almost   as  much   rush  and  excite- 


156  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

ment  as  existed  in  the  old  days  of  the  tea- 
clippers.  At  Bagdad  the  English  are  divided 
into  a  greater  number  of  categories — bankers, 
merchants,  shippers,  missionaries,  and  a  consider- 
able number  of  engineers. 

x^lthough  the  average  maximum  temperature 
for  some  months  in  summer  at  Bagdad  is  some- 
thing like  110''  in  the  shade,  and  120°  is  by  no 
means  unknown  in  some  places,  the  country  is 
decidedly  a  "  white  man's  country."  The  only 
serious  endemic  disease  is  the  "  Bagdad  boil," 
which  attacks  almost  every  inhabitant  of  that 
place  sooner  or  later,  and  is  particularly  un- 
welcome from  the  fact  that  —  being  due  to  a 
mosquito  bite — it  very  frequently  occurs  on  the 
victim's  face,  and  is  apt  to  leave  a  scar  for  life ; 
otherwise  the  country  is  healthy  despite  the  tre- 
mendous heat,  and  it  is  remarkable  how  seldom 
you  hear  an  English  resident  *'  grouse  "  about  the 
climate.  At  Bagdad  life  in  summer  is  made  much 
more  livable,  thanks  to  the  serdahs.  A  serdah, 
as  the  reader  may  already  know,  is  a  cellar  venti- 
lated by  a  shaft  which  runs  up  through  the  house 
itself  and  ends  on  the  roof  in  a  sort  of  masonry 
cowl  so  built  as  to  catch  the  north  breeze.  When 
fitted  up  as  a  living-room,  with  comfortable  furni- 
ture, it  forms  an  ideal  place  wherein  to  sestivate. 

When  an  Englishman  wishes  to  travel  from  his 
native  land  to  Bagdad,  he  has  the  choice  of  several 
routes.  The  ordinary,  though  prodigiously  round- 
about one,  is  via  Bombay,  the  Persian  Gulf,  Basra, 


^  Mesopotamia  in  Retrospect         157 

and    so    up    the   Tigris   by    river-boat.      It   takes 
about  one  month,   and   implies    no    serious  hard- 
ships.    It  is  possible,  however,  to  follow  a  much 
more  direct  line  overland  by  going  from  a  port  on 
the  Syrian  coast  to  Aleppo  and  thence  driving  to 
Bagdad,  keeping  more  or  less  along  the  Euphrates  ; 
but  the  extraordinary   discomfort   of  driving  for 
many  days  on  end  across  the  desert  prevents  this 
way  from  being  very  popular.     The  caravan  route 
from  Damascus  is  hardly  used  at  all  by  Europeans, 
as  it  means  desert  travel  of  the  most  arduous  sort 
on  a  camel  along  an  almost  waterless  road,  and 
its  only  attraction  lies  in  the  interest  of  passing 
through    the    ruined    city    of    Palmyra.      There 
remain    two    more    avenues    of   approach    to    the 
capital  of  Irak,  one  rarely,  the  other  hardly  ever, 
trodden  by  the  ferenghi :    the  first  is   the  river- 
route  from  Mosul,  from   which   place  the   adven- 
turous traveller  sails  down  the  Tigris  on  a  raft  of 
inflated  skins,  daring  the  risks  of  shipwreck  or  of 
puncture  by  an  Arab  bullet,  the  last  the  road  from 
Kermanshah,  which  I  am  about  to  describe  in  the 
next  chapter. 


158 


CHAPTER   X. 

ENTERING   KURDISTAN. 

Our  destination  on  leaving  Bagdad  was  the  little 
Persian  town  of  Kasr-i-Sherin,  to  which  point  the 
Commission  had,  in  the  meantime,  carried  forward 
the  frontier  from  Mendeli.  Its  distance  from  Bag- 
dad is  about  100  miles,  of  which  the  greater  part 
— as  far  as  Khanikin — is  carrossahle ;  beyond  that 
point  wheeled  vehicles  sometimes  go,  but  it  is  not 
good  to  be  in  one  of  them.  The  Turkish  mail  leaves 
twice  a  week  for  Khanikin,  and  finding  Captain 
Dyer,  who  had  been  making  final  arrangements 
for  the  Commission's  transport,  returning  by  it,  I 
joined  him  as  a  passenger.  The  mail  in  question 
consists  of  a  local  variety  of  diligence,  roofed,  but 
open  all  round,  drawn  by  a  team  of  four  mules 
harnessed  abreast,  and  encased  in  tin — a  feature 
which  has  earned  for  the  type  among  the  English 
people  at  Bagdad  the  name  of  ''  tin  bus."  Having 
filled  the  interior  of  our  "bus"  with  kit,  and 
bestowed  ourselves  at  full  length  on  top,  we  pre- 
pared to  face  the  twenty-four  hours'  drive.  The 
large  meidan  from  which  we  started  is  the  place 


Entering  Kurdistan  159 

where  the  caravans  for  Persia  collect  and  load  up, 
and  a  large  portion  of  it  was  covered  with  bales 
and  boxes  awaiting  transit.  These  were  the  ac- 
cumulation of  the  past  six  weeks,  during  which 
time  the  road  had  been  "  stopped "  —  a  very- 
common  state  of  affairs — by  the  turbulent  tribes 
across  the  border.  All  the  goods,  of  course,  were 
degenerating,  and  the  merchants'  profits  vanishing 
into  thin  air,  but  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
wait,  as  the  only  caravan  which  had  tried  to  get 
through  had  been  held  up  and  plundered. 

It  was  past  midnight,  and  the  moon  had  just  set 
when  we  reached  Bakuba  and  found,  to  our  dis- 
gust, that,  as  the  pontoon  bridge  is  too  decrepit 
for  wheeled  traffic,  we  had  to  turn  out  and  ferry 
across  the  Diala  in  a  gufa.     After  scrambling  up 
the  further  bank,  and  walking  for  a  mile  in  pitch 
darkness   with    the   wretched    porters    staggering 
behind   us    under   their  loads,   we   found  another 
vehicle  waiting  for  us,  a  replica  of  the  first.     This 
time  we  had  the  postman  and  half  a  dozen  mail- 
bags    inside,    so    it   was    no    longer    possible    to 
"spread"    ourselves,    and   we   had   to    share    the 
narrow  wooden  seats  with  our  new  and  odoriferous 
companion.     Hour  after  hour  we  jolted  and  rocked 
and   swa^^ed    across  the   interminable   plain,   over 
banks    and    through    watercourses,    with    the    old 
"bus"    rattling    and    creaking   like    a   ship    in    a 
hurricane.      Presently  the   sun   came   up,   and   as 
its    rays    gained    power,    turned    our    tin-plated 
chariot  into  a  veritable  oven.      It  was  quite  the 
most  purgatorial  journey  1  ever  experienced.     The 


i6o  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

landscape  was  blank  and  empty,  and  besides  the 
pilgrims  the  only  living  creatures  to  enliven  the 
way  were  the  bee-eaters.  How  I  blessed  the 
little  fellows  with  their  emerald  breasts  and 
coppery  wings  dropping  in  clouds  from  the  tele- 
graph wires  as  we  passed,  and  bejewelling  the 
ground  as  if  to  give  us,  at  least,  one  touch  of 
beauty !  One  never  grows  tired  of  watching 
them  fluttering  in  the  air,  just  like  great  big 
butterflies,  then  suddenly  "  planing "  to  the 
ground,  with  their  graceful,  slender  bodies  and 
fan-shaped  tails  as  rigid  as  an  aeroplane. 

We  stopped  at  the  village  of  Kizilrobat  for  a 
change  of  beasts,  but  all  the  energ}^  had  been 
baked  out  of  our  limbs,  and  we  rested  supinely  in 
the  courtyard  of  the  hhan.  Then  we  creaked  and 
rumbled  on  again.  As  the  day  wore  on,  the 
mountains  lost  the  unsubstantial  look  which  the 
distance  and  the  haze  had  lent  them,  and  became 
a  jagged  line  across  the  horizon.  Then,  towards 
evening,  the  endless  plain  broke  into  a  ripple  of 
low  hills,  on  the  other  side  of  which  we  came  into 
sight  of  Khanikin.  Through  the  town  flows  a 
rapid  river,  the  Elvend,  which  we  crossed  by  an 
unusually  fine  stone  bridge,  the  gift  (if  our  driver  s 
story  was  true)  of  a  pious  Persian  dame  whose 
charity  took  this  practical  way  of  helping  the 
pilgrims.  AVe  found  in  the  haimakam's  house  our 
Turkish  colleagues  (who  always  manifested  a  quite 
natural  preference  for  installing  themselves  on 
their  own  side  of  the  frontier),  and  after  dining 


Khan  at  Kizllrobat. 


Kasr-i-Sherin. 


Entering  Kurdistan  i6i 

with  them,  dragged  our  weary  limbs  to  the  khan. 
There,  bedding  ourselves  on  the  roof  to  evade,  as 
far  as  possible,  the  ravenous  inmates  of  the  place, 
we  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just. 

Next  mornino:  horses  were  sent  in  for  us,  and 
we  rode  the  odd  twenty  miles  into  Kasr-i-Sherin 
through  a  landscape  of  low  hills,  whose  rugged 
sides  formed  a  background  for  several  grim,  half- 
ruined  castles,  producing  quite  a  north  Italian 
effect. 

Kasr-i-Sherin  was  our  half-way  house.  Up  to 
here  we  had  been  travelling  through  the  plains, 
with  the  Tigris  for  our  trusty  ally  ever  within 
a  few  days'  march  ;  but  from  here  on  the  moun- 
tains awaited  us,  and  our  communications  would 
be  both  difficult  and  precarious  till  we  reached 
the  E-ussian  frontier.  All  our  spare  kit  had  in 
consequence  been  sent  on  ahead  in  February  from 
Mohammerah  to  Kasr,  where  we  found  it  on 
arriving,  and  spent  a  busy  time  refitting  and 
repacking.  Big  tents  were  exchanged  for  small, 
warm  clothes  stowed  into  the  bottom  of  our 
yakdans  against  the  cold  of  high  altitudes,  horses 
were  shod,  packs  were  lightened,  and  a  hun- 
dred and  one  other  preparations  made  for  our 
new  mode  of  life.  In  the  matter  of  lightening 
our  loads,  the  local  inhabitants  lent  an  en- 
thusiastic hand.  We  had  fondly  supposed,  on 
quitting  the  Beni  Lam  country,  that  the  worst 
was  over  ;  but  it  soon  became  evident  that  the 
change  was  merely  a  leap  out  of  the  frying-pan 


1 62  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

into  the  fire.  In  spite  of  doubled  guards  and 
every  other  precaution  against  thieves,  the  people 
of  Kasr  stole  our  horses  ;  they  stole  (poor  man  1) 
the  Russian  naturalist's  collection  ;  they  even 
stole  the  bedding  of  the  "  Hajji  Sahib."  This 
last  sounds  like  an  anticlimax,  but  let  me  ex- 
plain the  circumstances  of  the  case.  The  "  Hajji 
Sahib,"  who  was  the  chief  of  the  Indian  surve3^ors, 
was  a  gentleman  of  the  portliest  dimensions,  who 
turned  the  scale  at  somewhere  in  the  region  of 
eighteen  stone.  One  night  he  woke  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  something  moving  under  him,  and 
regained  the  full  possession  of  his  senses  just  in 
time  to  see  the  last  of  his  blankets  gliding  out 
of  the  tent  door.  They  had  stolen  his  bed-clothes 
from  under  him  ! 

Kasr-i-Sherin  itself  is  a  picturesque  town  cling- 
ing to  the  slope  of  a  very  steep  hill,  the  summit 
of  which  is  crowned  rather  theatrically  by  a  large 
ruin  showing  patches  of  sky  through  its  riven 
walls.  The  main  street,  which  is  also  the  bazaar, 
and  is  paved  with  boulders  the  size  of  cocoanuts, 
runs  straight  up  the  side  of  the  hill,  round 
whose  base  curls  the  swift  Elvend,  watering 
orchards  of  ^g  and  pomegranate,  fields  of  corn 
and  lush  meadows,  with  here  and  there  a  patch 
of  purple-headed  opium  poppies.  Flanked  by  this 
strip  of  verdure  on  either  bank,  the  river  winds 
like  a  vein  of  malachite  through  the  landscape 
of  reddish-brown  hills,  which  stretch  back  to  the 
big  mountains  beyond. 


Entering  Kurdistan  163 

There  was  a  big  city  here  in  Sassanian  times, 
and  the  ruins  of  it  cover  a  large  expanse  to  the 
north   of  the   modern   town.     Not  much    remains 
above  ground,  but  there  are  two  imposing  struc- 
tures which    still    defy   the   vandal    picks    of  the 
local    inhabitants    who    see    in    these   monuments 
of  their  country's  greatest  era  nothing  more  than 
stone  pits  whence  to  quarry  blocks  for  their  own 
wretched    hovels.      One    of   these    relics    is    the 
aqueduct   which   brought  to  the   town    its  water 
supply   from   a  point  on   the  El  vend   some  miles 
higher  up,  and  the  other  is  a  large  building  said 
to  be   the    throne-room    of  the    Sassanian    kings. 
The    ground-plan    is    square,    and    each    side    is 
pierced  by  a  noble  archway — a   symbol   that  the 
monarch  was  accessible  for  suppliants  from  all  the 
four    corners   of  his   dominions.      The    walls    are 
built  of  massive  unhewn  stones  embedded  in  the 
hardest  mortar   (the    inside    of  the    arches   being 
lined  with  bricks),  and   corniced  off  to  provide  a 
base  for  the  great  dome  which   must  once   have 
covered  it.     What  scenes,  I  wonder,  were  enacted 
in  that  vast  hall  when  Queen  Sherin  "  the  Sweet," 
the   loveliest   lady  who    ever   shared   the   throne 
of  Persia,  visited   the   town   which   is  still  called 
by  her  name  ! 

The  frontier  work  at  this  stage  was  the  most 
complicated  the  Commission  had  yet  had  to  deal 
with.  The  line  of  the  foothills,  which  had  so 
long  been  our  guide,  had  ceased  to  be  so,  and 
there  was  still  a  long  distance  ahead  of  us  before 


164  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

the  frontier  attained  the  watershed  of  the  main 
range,  which  would  carry  it  with  a  few  devia- 
tions all  the  way  to  Ararat.  The  intervening- 
gap  was  composed  of  broken  country  lacking  a 
clearly  defined  river  system,  and  containing  a 
good  many  scattered  areas  of  cultivation,  among 
which  the  frontier  had  to  thread  a  cautious  line. 
A  considerable  piece  of  territory  had,  too,  been 
ceded  by  Persia  to  Turkey  at  this  point,  including 
the  site  of  the  Chia  Surkh  oil-fields  exploited 
by  the  Anglo-Persian  Oil  Company,  for  which, 
of  course,  special  provision  had  had  to  be  made. 
Owing  to  the  discrepancies  of  maps  and  similar 
causes,  the  Commission  s  duty  of  demarcating  the 
line  laid  down  at  Constantinople  was  not  always 
found  to  be  feasible  when  we  arrived  at  the  spot. 
In  one  place,  for  instance,  we  were  faced  with  the 
problem  of  making  the  frontier  run  along  the 
crests  of  two  hills  which  were  discovered  in  real 
life  to  be  parallel  to  each  other — a  poser  which 
the  most  ingenious  of  geometricians  could  hardly 
have  solved.  At  last,  however,  our  immediate 
difficulties  were  settled,  and  we  started. 

Three  miles  from  Kasr,  where  the  road  broke 
through  the  ancient  aqueduct,  eight  loathsome 
vultures  sat  perched  in  a  row  on  the  crumbling 
parapet  eyeing  the  carcass  of  a  dead  horse  which 
lay  stretched  by  the  roadside  below.  We  passed 
by  this  grim  allegory  of  an  empire's  decay,  and 
soon  after  quitting  the  main  "road"  to  Ker- 
manshah  came  to  a  place  called  Tang-i-Hamman, 


Entering  Kurdistan  165 

where  there  are  hot  sulphur  springs.  The  hills 
all  round  were  barren  and  treeless,  and  the  fauna 
of  the  region,  to  judge  by  the  specimens  we 
saw,  were  as  unlovely  as  their  habitat.  Once  a 
slinking  hyena  disappeared  over  the  hill-top  at 
our  approach,  and  later  on  we  came  on  two 
fearsome  reptiles,  which  might  have  been  the 
young  of  ichthyosauri — scaly  venomous -looking 
creatures  about  a  foot  and  a  half  long.  Later 
in  the  day  a  curious  sight  came  into  view.  An 
endless  wall,  in  ruins  but  clearly  traceable,  ran 
in  a  bee-line  across  the  landscape.  Where  we 
crossed  it  it  appeared  as  a  tumbled  mass  of 
large  boulders,  through  which  a  gap  had  been 
made  for  the  path.  We  met  it  again  several 
times  in  the  course  of  the  next  few  marches, 
and  I  afterwards  learnt  that  the  wall  is  said 
to  stretch  for  a  hundred  miles  or  more.  The 
Persians  attribute  it,  like  most  monuments  of 
antiquity,  to  the  mythical  Feridun,  and  I  doubt 
if  in  reality  anything  of  its  history  is  known. 
One  may,  however,  safely  guess  that  it  marked 
the  boundary  of  some  empire  of  the  past  which 
coincided  remarkably  with  the  new  frontier  we 
were  laying  down  ;  and  I  was  inclined  to  con- 
gratulate myself,  on  looking  at  the  solid  blocks, 
that  I  was  not  on  that  Frontier  Commission. 

Our  camp  that  evening  was  pitched  on  a  horse- 
shoe ledge  looking  out  across  the  Zohab  plain. 
The  long  well- watered  plain,  mottled  with  cloud- 
shadows  and  hemmed  in  by  hills  on  every  side. 


1 66  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

with  the  mountains  rising  in  tier  above  tier 
behind,  was  a  beautiful  sight.  But  the  blight 
of  anarchy  lies  on  Zohab,  as  it  does  on  so  much 
of  Persia,  and  the  untilled  soil  produces  nothing 
but  wild  oats  and  coarse  tall  grass  except  for  a 
few  poor  patches  of  corn  sown  by  the  tribesmen. 

Not  many  years  ago  there  was  a  flourishing 
town  of  the  same  name  as  the  plain  lying  near 
its  eastern  edge,  but  it  is  now  completely  in 
ruins.  The  surrounding  country  is  the  home  of 
the  Guran,  an  important  Kurdish  tribe  which 
has  of  late  years  rather  come  down  in  the  world ; 
and  near  Zohab,  on  a  mountain  called  Dalahu,  is 
the  "holy  place"  of  Zardeh,  the  shrine  of  the 
Ali  Illahis,  to  whom  this  tribe  adhere.  The  Ali 
Illahis  are  the  followers  of  a  very  remarkable 
religion  about  which  little  is  known.  It  con- 
tains the  elements,  at  any  rate,  of  fire-worship ; 
but  Soane^  considers  that  "there  is  no  guarantee 
that  Zoroastrianism  was  the  original  faith,  though 
there  are  strong  traces  of  it "  :  he  thinks  it  is 
probably  an  agglomeration  of  the  customs  of  a 
number  of  different  religious  systems  containing 
a  core  of  secret  rites  cloaked  by  certain  orthodox 
observances  for  the  sake  of  avoiding  persecution. 

Sir  Henry  Eawlinson,  when  he  was  Consul  at 
Bagdad  in  the  'thirties,  visited  Zohab,  and  has 
left  on  record  what  he  learnt  concerning  some 
of  the  principal  tenets  of  the  Ali  Blahis.  They 
believe,  he  says,  in  manifestations  of  God  in- 
1  Author  of  •  To  Mesopotamia  and  Kurdistan  in  Disguise.' 


The  Plain  of  Zohab. 


Bamu. 


Entering  Kurdistan  167 

carnate  in  the  forms  of  1001  persons  of  different 
ages,  among  the  most  important  being  Benjamin, 
Moses,  EHas,  David,  Jesus  Christ,  and — as  their 
name  implies — Ali.  Rawlinson  identified  them, 
apparently  on  rather  slender  evidence,  with  the 
Lost  Tribes.  Soane,  on  the  other  hand,  quoting 
from  Persian  authors,  suggests  that  they  are 
of  Mohammedan  origin,  having  first  come  into 
existence  in  the  lifetime  of  Ali.  Ali  himself 
took  drastic  measures  with  his  would-be  devotees, 
bundling  them  into  a  pit  and  having  fire  thrown 
in  on  top.  Persecution,  however,  as  so  often 
happens,  served  but  to  fortify  the  persecuted, 
and  the  unfortunate  heretics'  only  reply  to  Ali 
as  the  burning  brands  fell  on  their  heads  was, 
"  Now  it  is  a  certainty  that  thou  art  God,  for 
the  prophet  has  said,  '  None  but  God  shall  punish 
with  fire.' " 

Beyond  the  plain  of  Zohab  lies  the  twin  plain 
of  Serkaleh  connected  with  it  by  a  narrow  neck 
or  tang,  so  that  the  two  together  have  very  much 
the  shape  of  an  hour-glass.  The  hills  next  day 
were  canopied  with  clouds,  and  whisps  of  vapour 
floating  across  the  plain  filled  it  with  a  delightful 
play  of  light  and  shade.  The  grass,  girth  deep, 
was  gay  with  cornflowers  and  clumps  of  wild 
hollyhocks — or  some  flower  nearly  akin  thereto 
— with  petals  of  a  soft  and  crinkly  texture  like 
crepe- de- chine,  and  of  varying  shades  of  red,  mauve, 
and  pink.  The  silky  grass  on  the  hillsides  rip- 
pling in  the  early  sunlight  added  to  the  beauty 


1 68  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

of  the  scene  ;  and  everywhere  nature  seemed  to 
be  doing  her  best  to  compensate  us  for  the  dreary- 
desert  marches  of  the  past  few  months.  Passing 
through  the  tang,  we  emerged  into  the  plain  of 
Serkaleh,  which  proved  to  be  more  extensively 
cultivated  than  Zohab,  so  that  v^e  rode  for  some 
hours  through  ripening  corn  before  reaching  our 
camping  -  ground,  beneath  the  shade  of  burly 
Bamu.  "Burly"  is  really  the  only  term  to  ex- 
press the  almost  menacing  boldness  of  outline  of 
this  fine  block  of  mountain  with  its  1000  feet  of 
sheer  precipice  running  along  the  upper  third  of 
the  whole  of  its  eastern  face.  It  is  reputed  to 
be  a  great  hunting-ground  for  leopards,  and  our 
shikaris  scoured  it  with  rifles;  but  the  only  big 
game  we  came  across  w^as  an  inquisitive  old  bear, 
who  came  snuffling  round  near  our  camp  one 
moonless  night  when  it  was  too  dark  to  go  out 
after  him.  But  though  we  enjoyed  poor  sport,  we 
provided,  alas  !  the  finest  shikar  that  the  neigh- 
bourhood had  known  for  years.  Our  tents  had 
imprudently  been  pitched  within  a  hundred  yards 
of  a  Kurd  camping  -  ground  deserted  not  long 
before  in  favour  of  the  summer  pastures.  But 
though  the  human  occupants  had  departed,  they 
had  left  behind  hordes  of  their  agile  companions, 
who,  scenting  fresh  prey,  hopped  across  in  their 
myriads  to  our  camp  and  feasted  royally  on  the 
exotic  delicacies  they  found  there.  Life  in  that 
camp  was   Hades  1     No  writer  on   Kurdistan,   in 


Entering  Kurdistan  169 

my  experience,  has  failed  to  remark  on  the 
number  and  voracity  of  its  native  fleas ;  and 
even  Mr  Soane,  the  ardent  panegyrist  of  all 
things  Kurdish,  has  to  admit  the  charge,  though 
he  softens  the  im.peachment  against  his  proteges 
by  maintaining  the  slightly  ingenuous  theory 
that  the  dust  of  the  country  breeds  the  pests 
spontaneously. 

At  no  great  distance  from  where  we  are  camped 
there  is  a  village  called  Pouchteh.  An  interest- 
ing rock -carving  is  visible  near  by,  which  was 
pronounced  by  the  archaeologist  Shell  to  be  very 
possibly  the  most  ancient  known  record  of  its  sort 
in  the  whole  of  Asia.  Accompanied  by  a  villager 
as  guide,  we  went  to  see  it.  After  scrambling 
some  way  up  the  steep  hillside  without  seeing 
any  sign  of  the  object  of  our  quest,  we  began  to 
fear  that  our  guide  was  taking  us  on  a  wild-goose 
chase.  Presently  the  man  stopped  and  pointed 
upwards.  "It  is  up  there,"  he  said.  "But 
where  ? "  we  replied,  for  there  was  nothing  visible 
except  a  blank  wall  of  rock,  nine  or  ten  feet  high, 
and  almost  perpendicular.  "  Climb  up  on  to  my 
shoulders,"  he  said;  so  on  to  his  shoulders  we 
climbed,  and  by  the  help  of  some  crevices  in  the 
rock  managed  to  hoist  ourselves  up  on  to  a 
narrow  ledsfe  running:  across  the  rock.  We  fol- 
lowed  the  ledge  round  the  corner,  and  there  came 
on  the  carving.  It  had  been  cut  in  the  rock-face, 
a  foot  or  two  above  the  level  of  the  ledge — which 


lyo  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

was  barely  18  inches  wide — and  was  thus  com- 
pletely hidden  from  any  other  point  of  vision  than 
our  own ;  in  fact,  any  one  not  knowing  the  secret 
of  its  exact  position  might  have  hunted  for  it 
vainly  for  a  lifetime.  What  considerations  can 
have  made  the  sculptor  chose  this  concealed  and 
almost  inaccessible  spot  is  hard  to  imagine,  but 
no  doubt  its  preservation  (it  is  in  excellent  con- 
dition) is  largely  owing  to  his  choice.  The  carv- 
ing, which  is  in  high  relief,  is  perhaps  a  foot  and 
a  half  square,  and  seems  to  represent  a  king 
armed  with  bow  and  arrow,  and  a  prisoner  of 
war  in  supplication  on  his  knees  before  him,  there 
being  a  cuneiform  inscription  in  the  margin.  Un- 
fortunately it  is  not  possible  to  get  far  enough 
away  to  take  a  photograph.  The  local  Kurds 
reported  other  and  larger  carvings  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, but  we  were  not  able  to  find  them. 

We  had  now  penetrated  well  into  the  heart 
of  Kurdistan,  and  the  Persian  and  Arabic  which 
had  hitherto  supplied  our  linguistic  needs  no 
longer  availed  us.  None  of  us  knew  a  word  of 
Kurdish,  and  only  three  of  our  followers  spoke 
the  tongue,  so  we  were  more  or  less  cut  off  from 
intercourse  with  the  natives.  Persian  roots  play 
such  a  large  part  in  the  language  that  we  were 
able  later  on  to  understand  occasionally  the  drift 
of  a  Kurd's  remarks,  but  at  first  not  even  this 
was  possible  ;  and  it  was  fortunate  for  our  comfort 
that  we   were,  as   a   party,   so   self-contained  as 


Kurds  of  Halebja. 


A  Village  in  Central  Kurdistan. 


Entering  Kurdistan  171 

to  be  almost  independent  of  the  people  through 
whose  country  we  passed.  Their  language,  one 
is  told,  repays  study,  and  certainly  this  would 
seem  to  be  the  case  to  judge  by  the  expressive- 
ness of  some  of  their  place  -  names.  Opposite 
Bamu  there  is  a  very  craggy  mountain  whose 
name  is  Shevaldyr,  which  was  interpreted  for  us 
as  meaning  "  Tearer  of  Pants,"  while  a  stony 
neighbour  rejoices  in  the  rather  analogous  title 
of  "The  Breaker  of  Nails." 

As  soon  as  the  frontier  had  been  brought  safely 
to  the  top  of  Bamu,  the  Commission  started  on 
a  three  days'  march  to  the  Sirvan.  The  Sirvan 
is  merely  another  name  for  the  upper  waters  of 
the  Diala,  the  river  which  we  had  already  crossed 
twice  on  our  way  to  and  from  Bagdad.  It  has 
a  peculiarity  common  to  many  of  the  rivers  we 
crossed.  Old  Father  Tigris  is  an  inveterate 
poacher,  and  drains  a  very  large  area  on  the 
Persian  side  of  the  frontier  range,  whose  crest- 
line  is  not  therefore,  strictly  speaking,  the  water- 
shed. The  rivers,  such  as  the  Sirvan,  rising  on 
the  eastern  slopes,  have  refused,  one  and  all,  to 
irrigate  the  land  of  their  birth,  but  seem  to  have 
felt  along  the  containing  range  of  mountains  till 
they  found  weak  spots  where,  breaking  their  way 
through  precipitous  gorges,  they  flow  westwards 
to  swell  the  waters  of  the  great  river. 

Our  road  to  the  Sirvan  took  us  first  over  the 
shoulder   of  Bamu,   and  we    marched   for  a  day 


172  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

along  its  slopes,  which  were  sparsely  covered  with 
oak  -  scrub,  relieved  here  and  there  —  where  a 
stream  came  down  from  above  —  by  an  orchard 
of  pomegranates  in  their  full  scarlet  glory  of 
blossom.  Then  came  a  day's  march  down  the 
valley  of  the  Zimkan,  and  on  the  third  day  a 
stiff  climb  over  the  shoulder  of  a  mountain 
brought  us  into  full  view  of  the  Shahr-i-zur 
plain.  From  our  high  point  of  vantage  the 
whole  great  plain  was  visible,  dotted  with  the 
many  mounds  which  proclaim  it  to  have  been 
once  crowded  with  the  habitations  of  men  in 
those  dim  far-off  days,  when  a  highly -civilised 
race  reared  its  cities  where  now  all  is  waste 
and  desolation.  Far  below,  the  Sirvan  coiled 
and  flashed  in  the  sun;  to  the  north-west  the 
plain  spread  out  indefinitely  towards  the  town 
of  Suleymanieh ;  while  to  the  north  -  east  the 
snow  -  flecked  crest  of  Avroman — now  our  im- 
mediate goal — stretched  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  We  zigzagged  down  the  steep  slope,  so 
thickly  grown  with  oak  that  only  the  music  of 
the  mules'  bells  floating  upward  apprised  one  of 
the  caravan  below,  and  reached  the  river's  bank. 
Here  the  local  Kurds  who  ferry  passengers 
across,  thinking  we  were  in  their  power,  repu- 
diated an  agreement  made  the  day  before  at  the 
rate  of  five  shillings  for  each  heleh,  and  demanded 
four  pounds  instead.  To  their  great  disgust,  how- 
ever,  after  a  careful    manipulation  of  the  mule- 


Entering  Kurdistan  173 

loads,  the  caravan  was  able  to  ford  the  river,  and 
though  the  water  reached  to  our  girth  buckles, 
and  the  tents  got  rather  moist,  we  crossed 
without  mishap.  We  marched  on  next  day  to 
Halebja,  a  little  Turkish  town  lying  in  a  fold  of 
the  plain. 


174 


CHAPTEE    XL 

ALONG   THE   AVROMANS. 

The  chief  feature  of  Halebja  is,  or  was  till  quite 
recently,  Lady  Adela.  Adela  Khanum,  to  give 
her  her  usual  title,  belongs  by  birth  to  the  family 
of  viziers  of  Ardelan,  a  Kurdish  tribe  which, 
though  now  considerably  diminished,  was  a  few 
centuries  ago  practically  an  independent  sultanate, 
and  still  retains  some  of  its  old  prestige.  She 
married  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Jaff  tribe  whose 
headquarters  were  Halebja.  The  Turkish  Govern- 
ment, following  their  traditional  custom  of  pro- 
pitiating such  of  the  borderland  chiefs  as  were 
too  powerful  to  be  coerced  by  force,  appointed 
her  husband,  Mahmud  Pasha,  haimakam  of  Shahr- 
i-zur.  This  led  to  his  being  absent  for  a  large 
part  of  the  year,  with  the  result  that  Lady  Adela, 
who  was  a  person  of  eminently  capable  and  decided 
character,  replaced  him  at  home.  She  not  only 
managed  her  own  and  her  husband's  private  con- 
cerns, but  also  (if  one  may  use  the  term)  "  ran  " 
Halebja.  She  built  a  prison,  law-courts — where 
she  acted  as  president — and  a  noble  bazaar,  be- 


Along  the  Avromans  175 

sides  several  fine  houses,  which  redeem  Halebja 
from  being,  what  it  would  otherwise  be,  merely 
an  overgrown,  squalid  Kurdish  village. 

At  the  time  when  this  enterprising  lady  was 
in  her  prime,  the  whole  district  of  Shahr-i-zur  was 
completely  in  the  power  of  the  Jaff  tribe.  In 
coalition  with  a  smaller  and  very  warlike  tribe 
called  the  Hamawand,  they  controlled  all  the 
roads,  and  without  their  permission  it  was  next 
to  impossible  for  a  caravan  to  pass  from  Suley- 
manieh  to  Halebja  without  being  plundered. 
Constantinople  had  no  authority  at  all,  and  when 
a  Government  telegraph  line  was  put  up  the 
tribesmen  merely  appropriated  the  posts  and  wire 
for  their  own  private  uses  without  a  word  being 
said.  With  the  Constitution,  however,  a  new 
order  of  things  set  in,  and  when  we  visited  the 
town  we  found  Turkish  postal  and  telegraph  ser- 
vices working  with  admirable  regularity.  Adela 
Khanum,  moreover,  had  to  our  great  disappoint- 
ment passed  more  or  less  into  retirement,  her 
husband  having  died  some  years  before. 

She  is  a  personality  of  such  interest,  however, 
and  her  status  presents  such  a  contrast  to  the 
ordinary  conception  of  woman's  position  in  Moham- 
medan countries,  that  I  cannot  forbear  to  quote 
from  Mr  Soane's  book  a  description  of  his  meeting 
with  her  in  1909.  Mr  Soane  was  travelling  in 
Kurdistan  disguised  as  a  merchant  of  Shiraz,  and 
he  thus  relates  the  event : — 

"  In  the  manner  of  Kurdistan  it  was  a  private 
interview,   so  I  found   no  more  than  twelve  ser- 


176  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

vants,  retainers,  and  armed  men  standing  at  the 
door.  The  room  was  long  and  narrow,  two  walls 
of  which  were  pierced  with  eight  double  doors 
opening  on  to  the  verandah,  the  other  walls  being 
whitewashed  and  recessed,  as  is  done  in  all  Persian 
houses.  The  floor  was  carpeted  with  fine  Sina 
rugs,  and  at  the  far  end  stood  a  huge  brass  bed- 
stead piled  high  with  feather  quilts.  Before  and 
at  the  foot  of  this  lay  a  long,  silk-covered  mattress, 
and  upon  it  sat  the  lady  Adela  herself,  smoking 
a  cigarette.  The  first  glance  told  her  pure  Kurdish 
origin.  A  narrow  oval  face,  rather  large  mouth, 
small  black  and  shining  eyes,  a  narrow,  slightly 
aquiline  hooked  nose,  were  the  signs  of  it ;  and 
her  thinness  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  habit  of 
the  Kurdish  form  which  never  grows  fat.  Un- 
fortunately, she  has  the  habit  of  powdering  and 
painting,  so  that  the  blackened  rims  of  her  eye- 
lids showed  in  unnatural  contrast  to  the  whitened 
forehead  and  rouged  cheeks.  Despite  this  fault, 
the  firmness  of  every  line  of  her  face  was  not 
hidden,  from  the  eyes  that  looked  out,  to  the  hard 
mouth  and  chin.  Her  head-dress  was  that  of  the 
Persian  Kurds,  a  skull-cap  smothered  with  rings 
of  gold  coins  lying  one  over  the  other,  and  bound 
with  silk  handkerchiefs  of  Yezd  and  Kashan.  On 
each  side  the  forehead  hung  the  typical  fringe  of 
straight  hair  from  the  temple  to  the  cheek  below 
the  ear,  and  concealing  it  by  a  curtain  of  hair,  the 
locks  called  'agarija'  in  the  tongue  of  Southern 
Kurdistan.     The  back  hair,  plaited,  was  concealed 


Along  the  Avromans  177 

under  the  silk  handkerchief  that  hangs  from  the 
head-dress.  Every  garment  was  silk,  from  the 
long  open  coat  to  the  baggy  trousers.  Her  feet 
were  bare  and  dyed  with  henna,  and  upon  ankle 
and  wrist  were  heavy  gold  circlets  of  Persian  make. 
Upon  her  hands  she  wore  seventeen  rings,  heavily 
jewelled,  and  round  her  neck  was  a  necklace  of 
large  pearls,  alternating  with  the  gold-fishes  that 
are  the  indispensable  ornament  of  the  Persian  Kurd 
and  of  many  of  the  Persians  themselves. 

"A  woman  fanned  her,  while  another  held 
cigarettes  ready,  and  a  maid  waited  with  sherbet 
and  rose-water. 

"  As  I  entered  Lady  Adela  smiled  and  motioned 
me  to  a  seat  beside  her  on  the  mattress,  and  gave 
me  the  old-fashioned  Kurd  greeting — 

"  '  Wa  khairhatin,  wa  ban  i  cho,  ahwalakitan 
khassa  shala '  (You  are  welcome ;  your  service  is 
upon  my  eyes ;  your  health  is  good,  please  God). 
.  .  .  E-akish -looking  handmaids,  in  flowing  robes 
and  turbans  set  askew,  stood  about  or  fetched 
scissors  and  tape  for  the  silk  cloth  she  was  in- 
specting. A  Jew  of  the  bazar  was  displaying  to 
her  his  wares,  taking  huge  orders  for  all  kinds 
of  stuff,  and  squatted  before  her,  taking  notes  in 
Hebrew  on  a  dirty  scrap  of  paper.  The  maids 
advised,  criticised,  and  chose  cloth  and  stuff  for 
themselves,  which  Lady  Adela  would  promptly 
refuse,  or  occasionally  grant  them,  for  she  treated 
them  remarkably  well.  The  audience  made  re- 
marks upon  the  proceedings,  often  enough  chaffing 

M 


178  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

Lady  Adela  regarding  her  purchases,  when  she 
would  retort  in  quick  Kurdish  with  the  best 
humour,  every  one  joining  in  the  laugh  which 
not  infrequently  was  against  her." 

Although  Lady  Adela's  position  was  probably 
unique  owing  to  a  happy  combination  of  rank  and 
character,  the  freedom  of  her  sex  which  it  ex- 
emplifies is  entirely  characteristic  of  the  social  life 
of  Kurdistan.  The  veil  and  all  it  implies  is  un- 
known, and  the  women  are,  for  all  practical 
purposes,  as  free  as  in  England.  My  first  walk 
through  the  streets  of  Halebja  brought  this  vividly 
to  view.  In  place  of  the  black  -  draped  ghosts 
which  in  other  Mohammedan  countries  peep  and 
giggle,  or  else  bolt  like  frightened  rabbits  on  the 
sudden  appearance  of  a  European,  the  good  dames 
of  Halebja  sat  and  gossiped  on  their  doorsteps  just 
like  Mrs  Brown  and  Mrs  Jones  in  any  village  at 
home,  quite  unperturbed  by  the  passing  of  a 
stranger.  The  younger  ones  among  them  were 
strikingly  handsome  girls,  a  little  Jewish  in  type, 
with  a  splendid  bearing  and  an  honest,  frank  ex- 
pression, as  different  from  the  sallow,  dark-eyed 
"beauties"  of  the  harem  as  a  healthy  English 
country  girl  from  a  bedizened  actress. 


On  leaving  Halebja  after  a  few  days'  stay  we 
struck  at  last  straight  up  into  the  mountains. 
The  Avroman  range  forms  at  this  point  a  mighty 
wall  stretching  without  a  break  for  the  best  part 
of  50   miles  from  the    Sirvan  gorge   northwards. 


Along  the  Avromans  179 

Towards  the  Turkish  side  this  wall  is  very  pre- 
cipitous, though  buttressed  by  a  number  of  low 
spurs  separated  from  each  other  by  deep  -  cut 
valleys,  most  of  them  well  watered  from  the  snows 
above.  The  villages  lie  all  in  the  beds  of  these 
valleys,  and  a  great  difficulty  was  introduced  into 
the  Commission's  work  by  the  fact  that  the  crest- 
line  does  not  form  the  frontier. 

Persian  Kurds  of  the  Avromani  tribe  (a  very 
ancient  tribe  claiming  descent  from  the  great 
Persian  hero  Rustam)  have  in  years  past  crossed 
over  the  top  and  founded  villages  at  the  head  of 
several  of  these  valleys,  which  nourish  Turkish 
villages  a  few  hundred  yards  lower  down ;  some- 
times even  a  single  village  is  half  Persian,  half 
Turkish.  It  was  to  deal  with  such  complicated 
positions  that  the  Commission  had  to  climb  up 
into  these  alpine  regions,  and  as  from  this  point 
what  I  have  to  tell  deals  only  with  the  actual 
experiences  and  impressions  of  our  journey,  I  pro- 
pose to  make  use  chiefly  of  my  letters  and  diary. 

Balka  Jura,  May  31. — We  left  Halebja  this 
morning.  For  the  first  hour  or  two,  while  the 
caravan  was  still  on  the  edge  of  the  plain  or 
among  the  lower  hills,  we  passed  through  several 
Kurd  villages.  Each  one  was  built  by  the  side  of 
a  stream  and  surrounded  by  trees,  chiefly  pome- 
granates. There  is  usually  an  artificial  pond,  or 
rather  basin,  in  the  centre  of  the  village  under 
some  specially  large  trees  ;  the  basin,  which  is 
fed  with  running  water,  is  enclosed  with  a  broad 


i8o  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

stone-coping  about  3  feet  high,  with  a  ledge  of 
convenient  height  on  the  inner  side  which  serves 
as  a  bench  for  the  village  grey-beards,  who  sit 
there  and  smoke  and  gossip  and  watch  their 
own  reflections  in  the  water — an  enviable  occu- 
pation in  this  heat. 

The  villages  themselves  were  empty,  and  the 
people  living  in  tabernacles  of  boughs  just  outside. 
I  wondered  if  spring  cleaning  was  going  on,  or  if 
they  were  indulging  in  the  "  simple  life."  Neither 
was  the  case — they  had  simply  run  away  from  the 
fleas.  A  similar  exodus  takes  place  every  year,  I 
am  told,  during  the  "  flea  season,"  the  wretched 
folk  being  literally  hunted  out  of  their  homes  by 
these  outrageous  parasites,  whose  numbers  are 
only  reduced  to  a  suflerable  level  after  the  whole 
house  has  been  turned  inside  out  and  every  sort  of 
carpet  and  covering  spread  for  some  days  in  the 
full  blaze  of  the  sun. 

After  five  and  a  half  hours  of  clambering  up 
rocky  ravines  and  traversing  steep  slopes  we  came 
into  sight  of  our  present  camping-place.  The  last 
part  of  the  approach  gave  one  a  delicious  foretaste 
of  the  scenery  we  may  expect  in  these  mountains. 
The  path  drops  quite  suddenly  over  the  edge  of  a 
narrow  steep-sided  valley  full  of  fine  walnut-trees ; 
at  the  further  end  there  is  a  noisy  waterfall,  and 
near  by  a  splash  of  magnificent  purple  iris.  The 
village  itself  is  on  the  opposite  slope,  to  which  it 
seems  to  be  growing  like  a  fungus  to  a  rock.  The 
angle  is  so  steep  that  the  flat  brown  roofs  project 


Along  the  Avromans  i8i 

one'above  the  other  in  tiers,  the  door  of  each  man's 
house  opening  straight  on  to  the  roof  of  his  neigh- 
bour down  below,  so  that  streets  become  a  quite 
unnecessary  luxury.  A  little  tea-shop  by  the 
wayside,  round  which  some  local  gentlemen  in 
dresses  of  flowered  cotton  were  grouped,  together 
with  the  trees,  the  waterfall,  and  the  rather 
pagoda  -  like  effect  of  the  superimposed  roofs, 
gave  to  the  whole  scene  quite  an  atmosphere 
of  Japan. 

June  1. — There  was  a  decided  nip  in  the  air 
when  we  turned  out  of  bed  this  morning.  Our 
camp  is  nearly  5000  feet  above  sea-level,  and  the 
streaks  of  snow  on  the  main  range  are  not  so  very 
far  above  our  heads.  Although  we  have  just 
entered  June,  may-blossom  and  wild  briar  are  in 
full  glory  a  little  further  up  the  slope. 

The  whole  Commission  went  out  this  morning 
to  set  up  pillars  in  the  Tavila  valley  two  miles 
from  here.  The  sides  of  the  valley  have  been 
terraced,  the  terraces  planted  with  mulberry-trees 
and  divided  by  lichen-covered  walls  much  favoured 
by  poppies,  but  the  bottom  ol  the  valley  is  full  of 
walnut-trees,  some  of  them  giants,  with  here  and 
there  a  grassy  patch  as  smooth  as  a  bowling-green. 
The  charm  of  the  place,  however,  lies  chiefly  in  the 
number  of  little  rushing  torrents  as  clear  as  glass 
which  you  meet  everywhere.  Numerous  small 
canals  take  off  from  the  main  stream,  and  are 
led    cunningly   along   the    hillside    to   water   the 


1 82  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

patches  of  cultivation  which  hang,  as  though  by 
their  eyebrows,  400  or  500  feet  above  the  bed  of 
the  valley.  Some  of  these  canals  finish  by  dis- 
appearing altogether  over  the  ridge,  whence  they 
are  carried  down  into  some  neighbouring  waterless 
valley. 

We  reached  Tavila  at  8  o'clock,  passing  on  the 
way  the  tekkeh  of  the  Nakhshbendi  dervishes.  A 
most  holy  family  of  these  dervishes  lives  here  of 
such  wide  renown  that  pilgrims  even  from  India 
come  up  to  this  mountain  village  to  bask  in  the 
sacred  atmosphere.  They  belong  to  an  order  which 
is  by  no  means  ascetic,  and  have  a  charming  resi- 
dence, an  arcaded  building  with  a  row  of  poplars 
in  front,  and  a  fish-pond  in  their  garden  quite  in 
keeping  with  their  monkish  profession.  Like  the 
Trappists,  however,  they  keep  the  precept  "  Me- 
mento mori "  perpetually  before  their  eyes.  I  do 
not  know  if  they  dig  their  own  graves,  but  the 
sepulchres  of  their  predecessors  occupy  a  most 
prominent  position  just  by  the  front  door.  Some 
of  them  are  marked  by  really  beautiful  carved 
headstones  rising  from  among  the  clumps  of  purple 
iris  which  here,  as  everywhere  in  Kurdistan,  grace 
the  cemetery.  Others  of  the  departed  dervishes 
rest  beneath  imposing  cathedral  -  like  structures 
made  of  hammered-out  kerosene  tins  varying  from 
2  to  8  feet  in  height,  whether  in  proportion  to  the 
age  or  rank  of  the  deceased  I  cannot  say.  It  is  a 
striking  example  of  how  Oriental  taste  which  can 
create  objects  exquisite  in  form  and  colour  will  at 


Dervish  Tekkeh,  Tavila. 


Nakhsbendi  Dervishes. 


Along  the  Avromans  183 

the  same  time  tolerate  the  most  extraordinary  out- 
raofes  on  the  artistic  sense. 

Having  ridden  through  the  roofed  bazaar  of  the 
village,  the  Commissioners  held  a  meeting  at  the 
Karacol.  A  peculiarity  of  Kurdish  villages  is  that 
you  never  quite  know  if  you  are  standing  on  terra 
firma  or  on  somebody's  roof.  In  the  present 
instance  there  was  nothing  to  warn  us  that  we 
were  on  anything  but  solid  ground  until  we  came 
suddenly  upon  a  gaping  hole  through  which  one 
looked  straight  down  into  a  large  room,  with  a 
fish-pond  immediately  below  inhabited  by  enor- 
mous goldfish  !  Personally,  I  experienced  much 
the  same  sort  of  shock  as  I  imagine  Korah,  Dathan, 
and  Abiram  must  have  felt  under  very  similar 
circumstances.  By  the  time  the  whole  Commission 
and  its  attendant  crowd  of  Kurds  was  assembled 
on  the  roof  it  began  to  feel  anything  but  safe,  and 
I  was  not  sorry  to  start  off  with  a  Turkish  soldier 
and  a  local  guide  to  explore  the  head  of  the  valley. 
For  some  distance  the  path,  which  was  about  4  feet 
wide,  wound  steeply  up  between  houses,  occasion- 
ally diving  underneath  some  one's  top  storey.  Poor 
"  Archibald,"  led  by  my  sais,  Imam  Din,  was  like 
a  cat  clambering  up  the  tiles — there  was  no  room 
to  turn  him  round,  so  he  had  perforce  to  follow. 
After  a  while  the  gradient  slackened,  and  I  was 
able  to  ride  him  a  couple  of  miles  to  the  next 
village.  There  I  came  on  a  tea-house  by  the 
roadside  where  a  circle  of  Kurds  were  sitting  and 
sipping  tea,  with  their  rifles — most  of  them  brass- 


184  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

bound  muzzle-loaders  —  hung  on  a  branch  over- 
head. My  guide  and  soldier  evidently  thought 
that  the  climb  ahead  demanded  a  preliminary  cup, 
so  we  "  dropped  in."  The  scheme  of  a  Kurdish 
tea-house  is  delightfully  simple.  Four  stone  walls 
form  a  square,  round  the  inner  side  of  which 
runs  a  ledge  to  sit  on.  An  extra  deep  recess  in 
one  corner  serves  as  a  table,  where  a  little  wood 
fire  burns  to  provide  charcoal  for  the  samovar. 
The  owner's  outfit  consists  of  the  samovar,  two  or 
three  small  china  tea-pots,  a  large  array  of  istikdns 
(which  are  glasses  about  2  inches  high  pinched  in 
at  the  waist  and  prettily  coloured),  an  equal  number 
of  filigree  spoons,  and  a  metal  basin  for  washing 
up.  The  clear  stream  running  by  outside  provides 
every  other  need  except  the  actual  tea  and  the 
sugar,  which  is  dispensed  with  a  generous  hand. 
You  come  upon  these  tea-houses  dotted  about  in 
the  most  unlikely  places,  and  their  appeal  on  a 
warm  day  is  wellnigh  irresistible.  We  have  a 
native  Lipton  just  outside  our  camp,  by  the  way, 
who  has  added  a  fresh  feature  by  suspending  a 
string  of  wares  from  the  tree  overhead,  but  he 
ofiers  nothing  more  ambitious  for  sale  than  sugar 
loaves  in  blue  paper  covers  and  an  empty  cham- 
pagne bottle  which  he  has  managed  to  get  from 
the  butler. 

However,  to  return  to  the  subject,  after  taking 
a  "  cup  o'  kindness,"  or  rather  two  or  three,  with 
the  rough  but  genial  company,  we  continued  up 
the  valley  on  foot  till  we  reached  the  neck,  whence 


Along  the  Avromans  185 

there  was  a  fine  view  of  the  Sirvan  gorge.  I  saw 
a  village  far  below  and  had  thoughts  of  going 
further,  but  my  Kurd  assured  me  that  they  were 
''bad  men"  on  that  side  (which  means  that  they 
belong  to  a  tribe  with  which  his  is  at  feud),  and 
would  not  be  responsible  for  our  reception,  so  we 
returned  home  bearing  a  big  block  of  snow  taken 
from  a  drift  and  tied  up  in  the  Turkish  soldier's 
coat.  He  and  the  Kurd  were  both  excellent 
fellows,  and  we  conversed  together  on  many  sub- 
jects in  a  wonderful  jumble  of  Turkish,  Persian, 
and  Kurdish. 

My  first  impressions  of  the  Kurd  are  fully  borne 
out  now  that  we  see  him  at  close  quarters  in  his 
native  mountains.  He  is  certainly  a  fine  creature. 
The  men  are  picturesque-looking  rufiians  in  their 
many-pleated  trousers,  embroidered  "  bolero  "  coats, 
coloured  turbans,  and  armoury  of  weapons  stuck 
into  their  belts.  Here  in  the  hills  they  carry,  too, 
a  peculiar  short  coat  of  enormously  thick  felt, 
fashioned  with  dummy  sleeves  and  a  hole  beneath 
for  the  arm  to  come  through  —  rather  on  the 
principle  of  an  undergraduate's  college  gown. 
Although  it  is  warm,  sometimes  even  baking,  in 
the  valleys,  the  wind  near  the  summit,  coming  off 
the  snow-fields,  is  most  intensely  bitter,  and  the 
shepherds  need  these  arctic  garments  as  badly  as 
their  flocks  need  their  fleecy  coats. 

The  women  are  very  handsome  as  long  as  they 
are  young,  and  here  more  than  in  any  Eastern 
country  I  am   struck  by  the  sudden  jump  from 


1 86  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

youth  to  old  age.  You  see  plenty  of  fine  up- 
standing girls  looking  about  seventeen  or  eighteen, 
and  an  equal  number  of  withered  and  bent  old 
hags,  but  it  is  almost  literally  true  that  there  is 
no  intermediate  stage ;  I  do  not  think  I  have  met 
a  single  woman  whom  you  would  describe  as 
"  middle-aged."  Their  fashion  in  hairdressing  may 
have  something  to  do  with  this.  They  wear  their 
hair  hanging  straight  down  and  cut  off  square, 
level  with  the  shoulders — a  style  as  becoming  to 
the  black-eyed  damsels  as  it  is  grotesque  in  the 
case  of  the  wrinkled  old  dames.  Another  habit 
which  needs  a  good  deal  of  "  carrying  off"  is  their 
way  of  clipping  a  stud  set  with  a  turquoise  through 
the  right  nostril  of  the  nose. 

By  far  the  most  noticeable  thing  about  the 
Kurdish  women,  however,  is  their  head-dress.  It 
consists  primarily  of  a  cloth  skull-cap  with  a  fringe 
of  blue  beads  round  the  edge,  and  this  is  plastered 
over  with  silver  coins,  the  lady's  wealth  being  thus 
easily  discernible  at  a  glance.  You  see  pathetic 
little  persons  of  five  or  six  with  a  meagre  string 
of  threepenny-bits  round  their  caps,  and  you  see 
strapping  girls  of  a  marriageable  age  with  heads 
completely  covered  as  if  with  silver  scales,  not  to 
mention  an  overflow  of  coins  suspended  on  chains 
round  their  ears. 

It  is  a  relief  to  be  among  a  people  who  do  not 
treat  their  women  like  slaves,  but  give  them  prac- 
tically the  same  freedom  as  the  men.  Here  they 
seem  to  have  little  to  do  except  stroll  about  in  the 


A.  Kurdish  House. 


V.^.-^- 


i 


y*^  •'... 


e 


fv- 


,^r 


A  Mountain  Track  in  Kurdistan. 


Along  the  Avromans  187 

woods,  the  younger  ones  doing  nothing,  the  older 
ones  spinning  with  a  tangle  of  yellow  wool  round 
one  wrist  and  a  spindle  in  the  other  hand  :  it  may 
be,  though,  that  the  Commissions  presence  has 
been  made  the  occasion  of  a  prolonged  bank- 
holiday. 

Biara,  June  4. — This  is  another  such  valley  as 
Tavila,  with  streams  and  canals  everywhere  water- 
ing woods  of  walnut  and  mulberry.  Our  camp  is 
pitched  in  an  orchard  of  the  latter.  This  is  less 
imprudent  than  it  sounds,  for  the  mulberries  are 
not  the  red  variety  we  have  in  England,  which 
leave  an  indelible  stain  on  everything  they  fall  on, 
but  a  white  sort.  The  former  do  exist,  but  are 
rare,  and  are  called  "king"  mulberries,  the  white 
fruit  being  the  commonest  sort  and  grown  in 
immense  quantities  in  order  to  be  sun-dried  and 
exported.  Though  not  luscious  like  the  others, 
they  have  a  very  subtle  flavour.  The  Biara 
valley,  instead  of  winding  about  like  Tavila,  runs 
perfectly  straight,  and  abuts  right  on  to  the  main 
range,  so  that  you  see  the  whole  height  of  it  rising 
abruptly  only  three  miles  away — a  fine  sight. 

We  only  took  a  couple  of  hours  to  come  here, 
but  the  roads  are  beginning  to  get  troublesome. 
We  have  not  actually  lost  any  mules  yet,  though 
Wilson  (who  was  obliged  to  go  off  to  Kermanshah 
to  fetch  money)  lost  two  over  a  precipice,  and  the 
Persians  have  lost  one  or  two.  Cash,  by  the  way, 
is  one  of  the  difficulties  of  travel  in  Persia — at  least 


1 88  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

in  the  case  of  an  expedition  on  such  a  large  scale 
as  our  own.  The  only  coin  worth  carrying  is  the 
kran,  which,  like  the  Indian  rupee  in  the  old  days, 
is  worth  its  own  weight  in  silver,  and  so  is  enor- 
mously bulky,  a  2-kran  piece — value  8d. — being 
about  the  size  of  a  florin.  Several  thousand  of 
these  make,  as  you  can  well  suppose,  a  serious  item 
of  transport.  On  the  road  here  I  had  my  first 
practical  lesson  in  mule-driving.  Together  with 
the  jemadar  I  brought  up  the  rear.  A  heavily 
and  badly  loaded  mule  kept  us  back  and  let  the 
main  body  get  far  ahead,  so  that  presently  we 
found  ourselves  a  little  party  of  three,  including 
one  charvadar  and  two  mules,  one  the  beast  with 
the  heavy  load  of  tent-poles,  and  the  other  with  a 
sore  back  and  no  load  at  all.  At  every  possible 
opportunity  the  loadless  one  clambered  up  the  hill- 
side to  graze.  While  the  charvadar  chased  him 
his  companion  would  also  take  to  the  steep  and 
there  deposit  his  load.  Both  of  them  had  then  to 
be  caught,  the  unwieldy  9 -foot  tent-poles  dragged 
back  on  to  the  track,  the  load  repacked  and  hoisted 
up  again  on  to  the  mule's  back,  which,  taking 
place  on  a  2-foot  track,  with  a  couple  of  horses  to 
hold  and  at  least  one  of  the  performers  a  novice  at 
the  art,  was  a  good  deal  less  easy  than  it  sounds  ! 

Biara  is  arranged  on  the  pagoda  system  even 
more  markedly  than  Balkha  or  Tavila,  and  when 
seen  from  across  the  valley  looks  like  an  enormous 
flight  of  steps  leading  from  the  bed  of  the  valley 
for   several   hundred  feet  up  the   side.      At   the 


Along  the  Avromans  189 

bottom,  just  above  the  stream,  there  is  an  am- 
bitious -  looking  mosque  with  a  double  tier  of 
arcades  and  a  species  of  lantern  (in  the  archi- 
tectural sense),  roofed  with  the  inevitable  battered- 
out  kerosene  tins  and  ornamented  wath  what,  if 
I  am  not  much  mistaken,  were  originally  manu- 
factured as  chair  -  legs.  Having  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  a  very  gentlemanly  Kurd  who  could 
talk  Persian,  and  was  particularly  attracted  to  me, 
as  he  explained,  by  the  fact  that  I  had  a  gold 
tooth  (which  he  probably  took  for  a  piece  of  reck- 
less personal  adornment),  I  asked  him  to  take  me 
to  see  the  mosque.  There  we  got  into  great 
trouble  with  a  venerable  old  mullah  who  was 
sitting  inside,  and  much  resented  the  entrance  of 
an  infidel.  "  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  shouted  angrily. 
"  What  do  you  want  ?  What's  your  religion  ?  " 
I  elected  to  answer  the  last  of  his  questions,  and 
explained  very  courteously  that  my  religion  was  a 
peculiar  brand  called  din-i-iriglizi  (a  rough  trans- 
lation of  the  "  Church  of  England  ").  Of  course 
he  had  no  idea  what  I  meant,  but  being  a  great 
religious  authority  did  not  care  to  admit  his 
ignorance  in  the  presence  of  the  other  Kurds  who 
were  now  standing  round ;  so  with  a  few  more 
mutterings  and  grumblings,  he  let  us  go  through. 
There  was  nothing  much  to  see,  however,  and 
when  I  came  out  I  only  wished  that  the  Biara 
fleas  had  been  as  exacting  in  their  discrimination 
against  a  Christian  as  had  been  the  surly  old 
mullah. 


I  go  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

June  9. — The  Commission  has  been  delayed 
here  for  some  time  by  difficult  negotiations.  The 
situation  is  so  complicated  at  Khan-i-Guermela,  a 
village  a  couple  of  miles  further  up  the  valley, 
that  the  resulting  frontier-line  runs  up  and  down, 
backwards  and  forwards,  along  irrigation  canals 
which  you  can  easily  step  across.  It  seems  a  pity 
when  there  is  an  almost  impassable  mountain  crest 
only  four  miles  away — the  finest  natural  frontier 
imaginable.  However,  people's  rights  have,  of 
course,  to  be  respected,  and  as  the  men  at  the 
head  of  the  valley  owe  allegiance  to  Persia,  there 
would  have  to  be  a  cession  of  territory  to  alter 
things.  From  here  on  the  frontier  keeps  to  the 
crest-line.  I  have  had  two  good  climbs  during 
our  stay  here.  The  first  was  a  scramble  up  to  the 
crest-line  to  efet  a  view^  of  the  mountains  on  the 
Persian  side,  and  Merivan  lake  lying  in  its  fine 
valley.  My  guide  was  an  enthusiastic  Kurdish 
boy  from  the  village,  who,  far  from  treating  me 
as  an  innocent  lunatic  for  wanting  to  climb  to  the 
top,  as  local  guides  usually  do,  urged  me  to  other 
and  more  ambitious  excursions,  such  as  he  said  he 
often  made  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  climbing.  His 
only  petition  on  returning  was  for  an  English 
razor  for  shaving  his  head.  I  noticed,  however, 
that  he  carefully  took  me  home  by  a  rather  round- 
about route  which  led  us  through  a  village  where 
many  of  his  relations  lived,  and  from  the  unanimity 
with  which  the  whole  population  flocked  on  to  its 
roofs  to  stare  the  moment  we  passed  through,  I 


Along  the  Avromans  191 

judged  that  he  had  scored  a  success  by  warning 
them  that  he  would  lead  a  queer  curiosity,  in  the 
form  of  a  tame  Englishman,  through  their  village 
on  that  particular  evening. 

My  second  climb  was  a  matter  of  business.     So 
many  pillars  had  to  be  erected  in  this  section  that 
the    usual    sub-commissions  were   exhausted,   and 
the  construction  of  one  pillar — (the  least  accessible 
of  all) — was  entrusted  to  the  corps  of  secretaries. 
The  path  was  long  and  very  steep,  and  my  Turkish 
colleague    proved    himself  a    hardy    mountaineer; 
but  "  the  Beauty  of  the  Empire,"  being  inclined  to 
stoutness,  did,  it  must  be  confessed,  droop  a  little 
by  the  way.     We  were  met  at   the  top  by  loud 
protests  from  an  ancient  Kurd  from  a  hamlet  near 
by,  who  repeated  many  times  that  the  decision  of 
the  Commission  was  giving  to  Turkey  part  of  the 
sacred  soil  of  Persia,  which  had  been  hers  for  1320 
years  (I  failed  to  discover  the  basis  of  his  chron- 
ology).      Despite    all    his   vociferations,    however, 
the  poor  old  fellow  was  eventually  shooed  back  to 
his  village,  and  with  the  help  of  a  squad  of  Turkish 
soldiers  a  pillar  of  9  x  9  feet  was  built,  dimensions 
which  (as  its  architects  were  careful  to  point  out) 
constituted  a  record  for  the  Turco-Persian  frontier 
up  to  that  point. 


192 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE   HEART   OF   KURDISTAN. 

Gulamhar,  June  11. — The  heat  is  intense.  We 
are  down  on  the  Shahr-i-zur  plain  again,  march- 
ing along  the  foot  of  the  Avroman  till  we  find  a 
pass.  This  morning  things  were  made  worse  by 
a  prairie  fire.  It  was  started,  I  suspect,  by  some 
careless  charvadar  at  the  head  of  the  caravan,  and 
within  a  few  minutes  the  short  dry  grass  was 
crackling  and  blazing  for  a  mile  or  more — the 
smoke  from  it  has  been  visible  all  day.  Evi- 
dently the  peasants  are  used  to  fires  of  the 
sort,  for  I  notice  that  all  the  stacks  of  hay 
are  insulated  by  having  a  wide  ring  purposely 
burnt  round  them. 

There  are  few  places  on  earth  prettier  than 
Gulambar.  It  is  a  veritable  jewel  set  in  the 
midst  of  this  parched  ugly  plain,  and  thoroughly 
deserves  its  name  of  "  amber  rose."  Every  rose 
has  its  thorn,  though,  and  Gulambar  is,  accord- 
ing to  all  repute,  the  most  snake-infested  spot 
in  all  this  country.     Every  one  shuns  it  on  that 


The  Villaoe  of  "Amber-Rose." 


Pi  ran. 


The  Heart  of  Kurdistan  193 

account,  and  our  own  camp  is  to  be  pitched  some 
miles  farther  on.  There  have  been  several  cases 
of  scorpion  bites  in  the  camp  already,  so  we  are 
the  more  careful. 

The  dervishes  are  here  too,  and  their  head, 
Sheikh  Ali,  who  resides  at  Gulambar,  is  a  very 
big  personage.  His  house  is  delightful.  You 
enter  into  a  courtyard  containing  a  large  stone- 
flagged  tank,  shallow,  but  all  bubbling  from  the 
springs  at  the  bottom.  The  rich  brown  stone  of 
the  house  is  reflected  between  patches  of  green 
water-plant,  and  the  figures  of  half  a  dozen 
reverend  old  gentlemen  in  cloaks  of  the  brightest 
hues  sitting  on  a  raised  verandah  behind  com- 
pleted a  scheme  of  colour  which  was  really 
exquisite.  The  houses  of  the  village  cluster 
round  the  minaret  of  a  very  old  mosque,  said 
to  have  been  built  in  the  days  of  Sultan  Sellm, 
with  a  stork's  nest  on  the  top.  On  the  farther 
side  of  the  village,  among  groves  of  poplar, 
several  copious  springs  burst  from  the  rocks 
and  supply  a  little  lake  edged  with  willow,  and 
forming  a  perfect  mirror  for  the  old  minaret 
and  the  stork  family.  The  overflow — a  beautiful 
clear  stream  full  of  trout  and  tortoises — runs 
through  an  avenue  of  poplars,  in  whose  branches 
all  the  sparrows  of  Kurdistan  seemed  to  have 
gathered.  The  ruins  of  a  very  massive  bridge, 
such  as  the  Romans  built,  still  partially  span 
the  stream,  and  just  below  it  there  are  hot 
sulphur   springs   walled    in    and   marked   by    two 

N 


194  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

or  three  upright  poles  covered  with  fluttering 
bits  of  votive  rags.  The  sulphur  smelt,  of  course, 
horrible,  but  it  has  had  the  curious  effect  of 
staining  all  the  stones  which  line  the  basin  into 
which  it  flows  a  most  beautiful  shade  of  blue. 

Chahdn  Pass,  June  12. — We  took  warning  by 
our  grilling  of  yesterday,  and  were  on  the  move 
early  this  morning,  getting  in  an  hour's  marching 
before  the  sun  cleared  the  crest  of  the  mountains. 
The  track  was  a  narrow  lane  between  a  wilder- 
ness of  thistles  and  wild  oats,  with  occasional 
patches  of  hollyhock.  The  Kurds  harvest  the 
thistles,  which  grow  here  very  big  and  fine ; 
but  I  do  not  know  what  use  they  make  of 
them.  Corn  is  grown  in  a  casual  sort  of  manner 
in  the  plain  and  threshed  on  the  spot.  We 
passed  a  good  number  of  these  open-air  threshing- 
floors,  which  are  nothing  more  than  circular 
clearings  where  the  corn  is  spread  in  a  thick 
layer  and  oxen  driven  round  and  round  to  tread 
it  out.  Apparatus  is  reduced  to  a  minimum, 
and  the  oxen,  five  or  six  in  a  team,  are  linked 
together  with  a  single  rope  looped  round  their 
necks.  They  form  a  picturesque  sight,  and  with 
the  first  yellow  rays  of  the  sun  just  grazing 
their  backs  and  shimmering  on  the  corn- tops 
the  effect  was  Troyonesque. 

During  the  morning  we  met  Wilson,  who  had 
returned  from  Kermanshah  by  a  different  road, 
with    his    mules    loaded    with    £2000    worth    of 


The  Heart  of  Kurdistan  195 

krans — a  fat  haul  for  the  brigands  through  whose 
country  he  passed  if  they  had  chosen  to  attack 
him.  This  is  a  particularly  lawless  region,  as 
we  are  at  the  junction  of  four  separate  tribes, 
and  there  is  consequently  no  one  to  enforce  order. 
Last  night  robbers  came  into  the  camp,  and  our 
local  guard  blazed  off  a  volley  in  all  directions 
to  show  their  zeal.  Their  headman  hunted 
anxiously  round  the  camp  for  blood  this  morning, 
but  I  don't  fancy  there  were  any  casualties.  We 
returned  along  the  road  by  which  W.  had  come, 
and  after  climbing  several  thousand  feet  (we  had 
dropped  down  previously  to  1900)  camped  near 
the  head  of  the  pass. 

Pirdn,  June  16. — We  have  come  into  quite 
different  scenery  on  this  side  of  the  Avromans. 
Unlike  the  steep  clefts  of  Tavila  or  Biara,  the 
valley  in  which  we  are  now  encamped  is  of 
the  comfortable  full-bellied  sort,  covered  with 
fields  and  oak-woods,  and  stretching  up  for  miles 
in  a  straight  line  till  it  finally  curls  in  towards 
the  crest  with  a  great  sweeping  curve  which 
looks  very  like  an  old  glacier-bed. 

A  catastrophe  has  occurred  which  has  thrown 
a  gloom  over  these  pleasant  surroundings.  The 
doctor  attached  to  the  Persian  Commission,  a 
member  of  the  last  Persian  mejlis  and  a  most 
pleasant  companion  on  this  journey,  went  out 
partridge  shooting  yesterday.  With  his  loaded 
gun  in  his  hand  he  stumbled  over  a  rock,  fired 


196  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

the  gun,  and  practically  blew  his  hand  off.  He 
bandaged  himself  and  returned  to  camp  in  the 
most  plucky  fashion,  but  Captain  Pierpoint  on 
being  sent  for  had  at  once  to  amputate  his  hand. 
It  is  the  right  hand,  and  one  feels  that  the  loss 
is  particularly  sad  in  the  case  of  a  man  of  his 
profession,  especially  as  he  is  one  of  the  small 
number  of  European  -  trained  Persian  doctors. 
There  is,  of  course,  no  possibility  of  sending  him 
from  here  to  any  civilised  place  where  he  could 
get  attention,  so  he  will  have  to  accompany  the 
Commission  in  a  litter  till  he  is  able  to  ride  again. 

Buava-Souta,  June  17. — We  have  crossed  yet 
another  pass  to  reach  this  place,  the  Persian 
doctor  standing  the  jolting  of  a  well-meaning 
but  very  inexpert  team  of  stretcher  -  bearers 
wonderfully  well. 

Not  far  from  here  there  is  a  large  storkery  in 
the  woods.  Hitherto  we  have  always  found  the 
storks  nesting  in  villages,  on  the  roofs  and  the 
walls  and  the  minarets,  but  these  seem  of  a 
less  companionable  nature,  and  have  made  them- 
selves a  regular  town  in  the  oak-trees.  From  a 
little  distance  off  the  colony  has  a  remarkable 
appearance.  The  nests  are  simply  great  plat- 
forms, five  or  six  feet  in  diameter,  made  of 
loosely  woven  sticks,  and  they  look  very  like 
the  tops  of  a  battleship,  while  it  requires  a  very 
small  effort  of  the  imagination  to  convert  the 
motionless  creatures  standing  in  them  into  a 
look-out  of  bluejackets.      On  the  ground  under- 


The  Heart  of  Kurdistan  197 

neath  each  nest  you  find  a  rather  gruesome 
collection  of  dinner  relics  —  dozens  of  empty 
tortoise-shells,  and  even  bones.  The  old  birds 
"lak-lak"  defiantly  at  you  till  you  get  quite 
near,  when  they  fly  off,  and  occasionally  an 
adventurous  storklet  peeps  out  at  you  over  the 
edge.  The  same  woods  are  full  of  beautiful 
blue  jays  and  black-and-white  woodpeckers,  while 
the  tortoises  underfoot  are  a  positive  nuisance, 
even  invading  our  camp  at  times.  Brooke,  who 
has  a  way  of  acquiring  pets  of  all  descriptions, 
has  got  from  somewhere  a  brace  of  fox  cubs, 
who  live  attached  by  long  strings  to  a  tent- 
pole.  They  are  very  tame  and  playful,  and 
have  the  greatest  respect  and,  at  the  same  time, 
afi'ection  for  Azaphela,  the  minute  dachshund, 
who  doubtless  appears  a  veritable  mastifi*  in 
their  eyes. 

It  is  perhaps  a  commonplace  to  refer  to  the 
human  adaptability  to  new  modes  of  life,  but 
this  journey  is  certainly  an  instance  of  it.  We 
have  now  for  nearly  half  a  year  been  con- 
stantly on  trek,  moving  camp,  on  an  average, 
one  day  in  three.  At  first  one  was  consciously 
travelling,  but  I  find  myself  reaching  a  stage 
now  where  to  be  on  the  move  is  the  normal, 
and  to  stop  for  more  than  a  day  or  two  is  the 
abnormal.  I  think  one  begins  to  get  an  inkling 
of  how  life  appears  to  the  real  nomad.  There 
is,  however,  a  fundamental  difierence  between 
us.  Whereas  the  nomad  more  or  less  circles 
within  prescribed  limits,   we    continually  go   for- 


198  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

ward  ;  and  it  is  always  to  me  a  strange  feeling 
to  leave  a  valley  where  the  Commission  has 
camped  for  two  or  three  days  (and  it  is  extra- 
ordinary how  familiar  it  grows  in  that  time), 
knowing  that  there  are  a  million  to  one  chances 
against  ever  seeing  it  again.  The  desire  to 
revisit  places  is  a  curiously  deep-rooted  tendency, 
and  I  suspect  that  the  primitive  nomad  has  it 
strongly  implanted  in  him. 

Champeraiv,  June  23. — This  little  mountain 
village,  with  a  name  so  suggestive  of  holidays 
in  Switzerland,  was  the  cause  of  much  debate 
when  the  frontier  was  discussed  at  Constantinople. 
No  one  could  say  for  certain  whether  it  belonged 
to  Turkey  or  Persia,  and  the  upshot  of  it  all 
was  that  it  was  left  to  the  Commission  in  its 
wisdom  to  decide.  The  final  judgment  depends 
on  what  the  position  of  affairs  was  in  1848  as 
revealed  by  our  investigations  on  the  spot.  As 
both  sides  may  be  relied  upon  to  produce  octo- 
genarians ready  to  swear  that  they  passed  their 
infancy  under  the  benign  rule  of  Shah  or  Sultan 
(as  the  case  may  be),  one  is  tempted  to  make 
the  nefarious  suggestion  that  we  should  toss  up  ! 

Between  Buava  Souta  and  this  place  the 
frontier,  following  the  crest  of  the  Zagros,  makes 
a  colossal  "  hairpin  "  bend.  After  following  round 
for  about  sixty  miles,  it  comes  back  to  within 
twenty  of  the  point  it  started  from.  Fortunately 
there  is  a  very  sharply  defined  watershed,  so 
our  main  party  has  been  saved  from  having  to 


The  Heart  of  Kurdistan  199 

"loop  the  loop";  and  we  have  only  made  one 
day's  journey  into  the  bend  for  the  sake  of  an 
acte  de  presence  on  the  part  of  the  Commis- 
sioners, and  various  sub  -  commissions  have  been 
told  off  to  set  up  pillars  on  the  passes.  There 
is  one  point  on  the  northern  side  of  quite 
dramatic  interest  from  the  geographical  point  of 
view.  It  is  the  watershed  between  two  small 
streams  of  equal  volume  but  very  different  des- 
tiny. One  of  them  arrives  eventually  in  the 
Persian  Gulf,  the  other  in  the  Caspian  Sea.  A 
philosopher  might  well  be  tempted  to  moralise 
on  the  apparent  insignificance  of  the  great 
"dividing-lines"  in  nature. 

The  road  which  we  followed  down  the  great 
bend  was  very  different  from  the  narrow  tracks 
we  have  grown  used  to  in  these  mountains.  It 
was  a  broad,  beaten  highway,  fenced  in  on  either 
side  wherever  it  passed  through  patches  of  culti- 
vation. It  has  been  worn  as  it  is  by  generations 
of  the  Jaff*  tribe  passing  through  on  their  annual 
migration  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Kizil  Robat, 
on  the  Bagdad  -  Kermanshah  road,  to  the  high- 
lying  pasture  lands  near  Sakiz  in  Persia.  They 
are  the  terror  of  the  whole  country  as  they  pass 
through  with  their  flocks,  plundering  and  ravag- 
ing whenever  they  get  the  chance,  and  the  local 
agriculturist  makes  a  rather  pathetic  attempt  to 
protect  his  crops  by  putting  up  a  fence  round 
his  land. 

On  our  return  journey  we  followed  along  the 
banks  of  a  river  teeming  with  fish.     The  doctor, 


200  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

who  is  an  ardent  disciple  of  Isaak  Walton,  turned 
up  in  camp  in  the  evening  triumphantly  carrying 
a  3^-pounder.  Yesterday  we  fished  all  day  with 
fair  success :  I  caught  a  2-pounder  on  a  "  spoon," 
and  lost  another  of  the  same  size  in  trying  to 
land  him  at  a  difficult  place.  They  are  quite  a 
sporting  sort  of  fish,  and  are  very  fair  eating — 
an  important  consideration  when  our  commissariat 
is  as  low  as  it  is  at  present.  No  one  of  our  party 
can  definitely  identify  their  species ;  but  I  am 
told  that,  except  for  size,  they  resemble  very 
much  the  great  Indian  mahsir.  Our  promiscuous 
collection  of  live  stock  was  augmented  in  the 
course  of  our  angling  by  a  couple  of  young  mag- 
pies. Their  nest  was  in  a  willow  by  the  river- 
side, and  our  arrival  so  disconcerted  them  that 
they  fell  out  into  the  water,  whence  they  were 
retrieved  by  ''  Ben,"  wet,  scared,  but  unhurt.  A 
suitable  cage  is  being  constructed  for  them  under 
Brooke's  auspices,  and  they  will  henceforth  form 
an  addition  to  our  travelling  menagerie  of  Persian 
fauna. 

June  27. — We  have  moved  our  camp  up  to 
6000  feet,  and  the  view,  as  I  write  here  on  a 
little  plateau  in  front  of  the  tents  at  6.30  in 
the  morning,  is  exquisite.  There  is  nothing  but 
a  great  expanse  of  mountain  -  tops,  with  spaces 
of  grey  mistiness  between.  One  can  just  catch 
the  murmuring  of  the  river  2000  feet  below, 
but    there    is    not    another    sound.      Far    to    the 


The  Heart  of  Kurdistan  201 

north  the  white  peaks  of  the  Kandil  range  are 
dimly  visible,  though  still  nearly  three  weeks' 
march  away. 

7.30  P.M. — As  negotiations  over  Champeraw  are 
still  dragging,  W.    and  I,   wearying  of  the  long 
wait,  took  this  chance  of  a  flying  visit  to  Baneh. 
We  failed  to   quite  reach    it    to-night,    and    are 
camped   by    the   roadside  —  that    is    to    say,    our 
camp-beds  have  been  put  up  in  a  field  near  a 
small  hamlet,   whose    inhabitants  have  come  out 
en    bloc    and    follow    with    the    keenest    interest 
every  detail  of  our  meal  and  toilet.     The  head- 
man   came    too;    and   W.,    who    has    the   happy 
knack    of  getting    natives   into    a   good   humour, 
has   been  raising  choruses  of  laughter  by  a  few 
simple  jokes.      "What's  your  income?"   he  asks 
the  agha  (this  is  quite  as  proper  a  question  in 
the  East  as  an  inquiry  after  a  stranger's  health 
would    be    in    England).      ''Ten   tomans,"    is   the 
answer.     "And  your  perquisites?"  W.  continues. 
"Oh,    I   never   steal,"    says    the    agha.      "Well, 
then,   you  re  not  much  of  a   Kurd,"   retorts  W.  ; 
whereat    the    crowd  roar  with    laughter,   for   the 
Kurds    quite    openly   plume    themselves   on   their 
cleverness  as  thieves.     Among  the  supplies  which 
the    villagers    brought     for     our    dinner    was    a 
jar  of  the  sweetest  wild  honey.      It  is  quite  an 
important  item  in  the  diet  of  the  people  of  this 
country ;    and    in    conjunction    with    crisp    native 
bread  (unleavened,  and  pancake-shaped  like  the 


202  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

Indian  chupattie)  and  a  bowl  of  thick  mast  (a 
species  of  junket),  it  makes  a  meal  for  a  king. 
A  propos  of  wild  honey,  W.  tells  me  a  story  of 
a  conversation  with  some  nomad  Lurs  when  he 
was  living  in  their  tents  in  Luristan.  They  were 
eating  honey,  and  W.  began  to  describe  to  his 
host  how  in  England  we  keep  ''tame"  bees  in 
hives.  But  the  'cute  Lur  was  not  to  be  taken 
in  with  such  a  palpable  traveller's  yarn.  "Ho, 
ho ! "  he  said ;  "  and  I  suppose  when  you  go  up 
to  your  summer  pastures  you  drive  them  in  front 
of  you  like  sheep!"  The  laugh  was  on  W.,  as 
the  Americans  say. 

On  our  way  here  we  stopped,  just  before  sunset, 
to  drink  tea  at  a  wayside  booth.  As  we  sat 
there  a  party  of  horsemen,  escorting  one  of  the 
chief  men  of  Baneh,  came  riding  by.  The  last 
glint  of  the  sun,  striking  level  over  the  mountain- 
tops,  fell  on  them  and  added  a  finishing  touch 
to  the  picturesqueness  of  the  cavalcade.  All  the 
men  wore  immense  turbans  composed  of  three  or 
four  various  coloured  handkerchiefs  intertwined 
with  a  fringe  of  tassels  dependent  all  round  the 
head,  except  one,  who,  being  a  Mukri,  wore 
the  distinctive  head-dress  of  his  tribe — a  sugar- 
loaf  cap,  with  a  long  tassel  attached  to  the  peak 
and  tucked  into  a  turban  wound  round  the  base. 
Their  trousers  were  cut  like  a  Dutchman's,  very 
voluminous,  and  caught  in  tight  round  the  ankle, 
and  their  cumberbunds  of  flowered  cotton  or  silk 
so  immense  that  the  array  of  silver- hilted  knives 


The  Heart  of  Kurdistan  203 

and  pistols  that  each  man  carried  was  almost 
lost  among  the  folds.  For  footgear  they  wore 
the  regular  country  givas — a  soft  cloth  shoe  not 
unlike  the  espadrilles  which  the  Basques  wear, 
and  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for  climbing  over 
rocks.  There  seemed  to  be  an  absolutely  un- 
limited choice  in  the  matter  of  colour  and  material 
for  their  coats.  One  had  a  jacket  with  alternate 
stripes  of  white  and  bronze,  another  a  flaming 
chintz  with  red  flowers  and  green  leaves  on  a 
white  ground,  a  third  was  resplendent  in  bright 
green  satin ;  some  coats  were  plain  and  some 
were  quilted,  and  among  the  whole  crowd  of 
them  there  were  no  two  even  approximately  alike. 
It  was  indeed  a  wondrous  spectacle  as  they  filed 
past  on  their  betasselled  steeds  in  the  dying  rays 
of  the  sun  ;  but  even  under  their  outrageous  ''get 
up "  one  could  not  help  noticing  with  admiration 
the  fine  features  and  bearing  of  these  pure -bred 
mountaineers. 

After  they  had  passed,  we  wound  on  up  the 
valley  in  the  semi-twilight,  reaching  the  top  of 
the  pass  just  in  time  to  see  the  whole  of  the 
next  range  ahead  flushed  crimson  by  the  sun 
which  had  set  for  us  many  minutes  before.  Slowly 
the  colour  died  out  as  we  started  on  the  descent, 
and  long  before  we  reached  our  camping -place 
here  the  warm  glow  had  given  place  to  the 
beautiful  but  cold  light  of  a  crescent  moon.  To- 
morrow we  shall  be  under  way  before  day- 
break, and  hope  to  reach  Baneh  in  a  couple  of 


204  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

hours,   whence  a  hdsid   will   carry    the   mails   to 
Kermanshah. 

Baneh,  June  29. — We  have  had  a  disturbed 
night.  Yesterday  we  announced  our  readiness  to 
inspect  any  carpets  which  the  good  people  of 
Baneh  might  have  for  sale.  A  dozen  or  so  were 
brought  from  the  village,  and  some  attractive 
Ispahan  rugs  were  laid  out  before  our  tent  for 
more  detailed  attention  next  morning.  W.  im- 
prudently had  his  camp-bed  erected  on  the  pile. 
It  would  seem  that  half  the  fleas  of  Ispahan  must 
have  travelled  hither  in  the  rugs,  and  during  the 
night  they  changed  their  quarters  for  W.'s  bed. 
He  swears  to  having  killed  sixty  !  I  myself  escaped 
lightly,  as  my  bed  was  inside  the  tent,  and  I  fell 
prey  only  to  a  few  of  the  enemy's  scouts.  One 
needs  to  see  well  to  the  tucking  -  in  of  one's 
mosquito-net  in  this  country,  for  besides  the 
comparatively  innocent  fleas,  the  place  swarms 
with  the  most  gruesome  -  looking  tarantulas,  and 
a  very  poisonous  variety  of  centipede  who  leaves 
his  claws  inside  you  if  you  try  to  knock  him  ofl". 

The  town  of  Baneh,  which  counts  about  700 
houses  and  7  or  8  mosques,  lies  in  a  broad,  well- 
watered  valley  at  an  altitude  of  over  5000  feet. 
It  is  an  example  of  a  thoroughly  Kurdish  town, 
almost  completely  cut  ofl"  from  the  rest  of  Persia, 
and  paying  not  a  sou,  I  believe,  into  the  Imperial 
treasury.  There  was  at  the  time  of  our  visit  a 
Jcarguzar,  or  Foreign   Office   agent,  a  loquacious 


The  Heart  of  Kurdistan  205 

gentleman  in  regulation  frock-coat,  which  he  wore 
so  as  to  display  a  large  expanse  of  loud  and  very 
dirty  shirt,  dispensing  altogether  with  a  collar. 
His  influence,  however,  was  probably  negligible, 
and  the  government  resided  entirely  in  the  hands  of 
the  local  hegzadehs  of  whom  the  chief,  one  Moham- 
mad Khan,  was  recognised  as  "  Governor  "  by  the 
Persian  Government.  Some  ten  years  ago,  being 
involved  in  a  private  feud,  he  invited  in  the  Turks 
as  his  allies.  A  common  historical  phenomenon 
repeated  itself,  his  guests  remaining  as  masters 
and  deposing  their  host.  For  six  years  the  town 
was  consequently  Turkish,  but  early  in  the  recent 
frontier  negotiations  it  was  agreed  that  the  Turkish 
troops  and  officials  should  evacuate  the  place,  and 
it  reverted  to  the  nominal  sovereignty  of  Persia. 
The  incident  is  a  good  example  of  the  situation 
which  has  prevailed  for  generations  along  this 
frontier  and  has  made  our  present  work  of  de- 
limitation so  necessary. 

Last  night  we  interviewed  Mohammad  Khan. 
He  was  attended  by  a  small  company  of  notables 
and  his  mirza,  or  secretary,  armed  with  a  large 
pen-case  which  he  ostentatiously  laid  in  front  of 
him  on  the  carpet.  The  Khan's  personal  servant 
stood  behind  him  periodically  fitting  a  cigarette 
into  a  fine  amber  holder,  quite  10  inches  long, 
which  he  would  then  light  and  hand  to  his  master. 
The  entourage  stood  in  a  circle  outside  the  tent 
staring  hard  at  the  unusual  spectacle  of  two 
Englishmen.      One   had   every   reason   to   return 


2o6  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

the  compHment,  for  some  of  their  costumes  were 
even  more  striking  than  those  of  the  horsemen  we 
encountered  yesterday.  I  made  a  mental  note  of 
some  of  the  colours  affected  by  these  gay  gentry  : 
mustard,  heliotrope,  crimson,  and  a  really  beautiful 
sort  of  old-gold  were  among  the  most  striking. 
They  wore  the  long  sleeve  which  you  see  in  various 
forms  throughout  almost  the  whole  of  Kurdistan. 
It  falls  from  the  elbow  in  a  long  point,  so  as  almost 
to  touch  the  ground  when  the  arms  are  folded  (like 
an  exaggerated  sort  of  surplice),  but  it  is  worn 
loose  only  in  the  presence  of  an  important  person, 
and  at  other  times  is  twisted  and  tied  tight  round 
the  wrist.  There  were  several  quite  small  boys  in 
the  crowd,  looking  particularly  comical  in  their 
little  tunics  and  enormous  cummerbunds,  with  a 
couple  of  tags  of  white  stuff  attached  to  their 
shirts  as  make-believe  sleeves.  The  cummerbund 
is,  by  the  way,  worn  by  some  tribes  in  a  most 
peculiar  manner.  It  is  twisted  tightly  into  a  sort 
of  thick  rope  and  then  wound  round  the  body, 
almost  from  the  arm-pits  to  the  waist ;  sometimes, 
instead  of  being  wound  straight  round,  it  is 
criss-crossed  in  front  somewhat  in  the  fashion  of 
a  corset. 

Moussik,  July  1. — We  rejoined  the  Commission 
here  after  a  long  march  from  Baneh.  There  are 
nothing  but  mountains  between,  and  as  our  road 
cut   across   the  grain,  we  never   had   a   hundred 


The  Heart  of  Kurdistan  207 

yards  of  level  anywhere.  There  is,  however, 
water  in  abundance,  and  we  were  compensated  by 
the  most  beautiful  scenery.  Trees  of  every  variety 
seem  to  flourish  ;  I  noticed  oak,  willow,  mulberry, 
wild-pear,  sloe,  and  many  sorts  to  which  1  could 
not  put  a  name.  We  passed  one  black  mulberry 
(or  "Royal"  as  the  Persians  call  it)  apparently 
growing  quite  wild,  but  covered  with  the  finest 
fruit.  The  lowest  branches  were  unfortunately  out 
of  reach,  and  we  could  only  get  at  the  fruit  by  the 
expedient  of  my  climbing  on  to  W.'s  shoulders  and 
feeding  him  and  myself  alternately — an  arrange- 
ment to  which  he  took  exception,  on  the  ground 
that  he  had  to  trust  too  much  to  the  integrity  of 
his  partner  for  his  proper  share  of  the  ripe  ones  ! 
We  had  our  tiffin  with  us  and  ate  it  at  a  Kurdish 
tea-shop,  sitting  on  stone  seats  round  an  artificial 
pool  beneath  the  shade  of  a  chestnut.  The  ked- 
hhuda  of  the  neighbouring  village  was  sitting 
gravely  smoking  in  the  opposite  corner,  and  ac- 
commodation was  even  provided  for  babies,  in  the 
form  of  a  cradle.  It  was  occupied  when  we  arrived, 
but  our  appearance  was  apparently  too  terrifying, 
as  the  mother  snatched  up  her  infant  and  took  to 
the  hillside,  whence  we  saw  her  creeping  back  to 
finish  her  cup  of  tea  as  we  rode  away.  We  are 
now  in  the  tobacco  country,  and  the  lower  slopes 
of  the  hills  are  planted  pretty  freely  with  tobacco- 
plant.  It  is  cultivated  on  surprisingly  scientific 
lines,  the  seedlings  being  reared  in   "  nurseries " 


2o8  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

till  they  are  a  few  inches  high,  and  then  carefulty 
planted  out  between  irrigation  trenches  dug  with 
mathematical  precision  in  a  slightly  crescent  shape, 
each  trench  being  8  to  10  feet  in  length,  and  con- 
nected at  either  end  with  a  cross  trench  runnino- 
longitudinally  down  the  slope.  The  state  of  the 
country  is  so  unsettled  that  hardly  any  of  the 
tobacco  is  exported,  and  I  believe  that  the  Persian 
Government  get  not  a  penny  of  revenue  out  of  it ; 
but  seeing  that  tobacco  is  one  of  the  most  valuable 
of  all  crops,  the  potential  wealth  of  this  district 
must  be  considerable. 

After  many  hours  of  riding  through  country 
which  could  only  be  adequately  compared  with  a 
switch-back,  we  came  late  in  the  afternoon  to  a 
point  not  more  than  five  miles  from  Moussik.  Be- 
tween us  and  the  camp  there  was  a  big  mountain, 
whose  name  is  Sourkef,  with  the  Zab  running  at  its 
foot.  Of  course  we  supposed  that  there  was  a  path 
rounding  the  mountain,  so  imagine  our  disgust  when 
w^e  found  that  the  only  way  lay  right  over  the  very 
summit,  a  height  of  over  7000  feet  above  sea-level. 
It  was  nearly  dark  when  we  reached  the  top,  but 
we  could  just  detect  the  white  tents  far  below  us 
on  the  opposite  side  of  a  valley.  There  was 
neither  water  nor  grass  on  the  top,  so  we  had  no 
choice  but  to  risk  the  descent.  The  path  was  a 
breakneck  track  barely  a  foot  wide,  the  mules 
were  nearly  dead-beat,  and  a  false  step  by  one 
of  them  at  almost  any  point  would  have  sent  him 


The  Mad  Hajji. 


A  Scene  typical  of  Central  Kurdistan. 


The  Heart  of  Kurdistan  209 

and  his  load  to  perdition.  How  the  animals 
managed  to  scramble  down  by  moonlight  without 
an  accident  of  any  sort  was  a  marvel,  and  I  for 
one  offered  fervent  praise  to  Allah  when  we  got 
safely  into  camp  at  10  p.m. 


2IO 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

KURDISH    HISTORY,    CUSTOMS,    AND    CHARACTER. 

The  wanderings  recorded  in  the  last  three  chapters 
bring  us  to  the  very  heart  of  Kurdistan.  "  Kur- 
distan "  (like  "Armenia")  is  one  of  those  names 
which  you  find  scored  large  across  the  map 
without  any  dotted  lines  or  other  marks  to  define 
their  boundaries.  The  word  simply  means,  in 
point  of  fact,  the  country  of  the  Kurds,  and  as 
this  people  live  in  large  numbers  all  the  way  from 
Adana  on  the  Mediterranean  to  near  Tabriz  in 
Northern  Persia  (a  matter  of  600  miles  east  and 
west),  the  term  is  necessarily  vague.  In  speaking 
of  its  "  heart,"  therefore,  I  am  not  using  the  word 
in  its  anatomical,  or  rather  geographical,  sense, 
but  as  meaning  the  part  of  Kurdistan  where  the 
population  is  most  purely  Kurd,  and  which  one 
may  fairly  look  upon  as  the  real  stronghold  of 
the  race.  Having  conducted  the  reader  thus  far, 
then,  it  seems  reasonable  to  give  a  few  pages  to 
facts  of  more  general  interest  about  the  Kurds 
which  may  serve  as  a  setting  for  our  own  par- 
ticular journey. 

The  Kurds  are,  as  a  whole,  a  remarkably  little- 


Kurdish  History,  Customs,  &  Character  21 1 

known  race  to  the  outside  world.  Their  neigh- 
bours north,  east,  south,  and  west  have  all  of 
them  their  own  more  or  less  recognised  bio- 
graphers. In  Lord  Curzon's  '  Persia '  we  have  an 
exhaustive  description  of  the  Shah's  dominions 
and  subjects  ;  Lynch's  '  Armenia,'  on  a  lesser 
scale,  fulfils  the  same  purpose  for  the  latter 
country ;  we  are  most  of  us  familiar  with  the 
bedouin  (those,  at  least,  of  Arabia  proper,  and  they 
are  not  radically  different  from  their  cousins  in 
Irak)  from  the  pages  of  Sir  Eichard  Burton,  or 
one  or  another  of  his  literary  successors ;  while  a 
whole  library  has  been  dedicated  to  the  Ottoman 
Turk.  Only  the  poor  Kurd  has  been  overlooked, 
or  nearly  so,  and  left  to  figure  to  the  Englishman's 
imagination  in  the  unique  role  of  a  bloodthirsty 
assassin  weltering  in  the  gore  of  massacred 
Armenians.  That  he  frequently  has  weltered  is, 
alas !  undeniable,  and  the  present  war  will  certainly 
not  help  to  cleanse  his  reputation  in  this  respect, 
for  the  fate  of  the  Armenians  throughout  his 
country  has  been  one  of  its  blackest  pages.  But 
we  may  still  hesitate,  I  think,  to  utterly  condemn 
this  primitive  race  because  of  the  crimes  of  religious 
fanaticism,  more  particularly  when  we  remember 
that  the  record  of  our  own  civilised  Europe  in 
this  respect  bears  such  blemishes  as  the  Eve  of  St 
Bartholomew.  At  all  events  in  this  chapter  let  us 
leave  the  "weltering"  Kurd  out  of  the  picture 
and  consider  only  some  of  his  pleasanter  aspects. 

I  must    first,   however,   qualify   the    statement 
that  no  standard  volume  on  Kurdistan  has  ever 


212  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

been  written,  by  mentioning  various  books  of 
travel  in  that  country  which  do  exist.  During 
the  course  of  the  eighteenth  century,  Fraser,  Mil- 
lingen,  Creagh,  and  Wagner  all  wrote  accounts 
of  their  journeys  among  the  Kurds,  while  quite 
recently  Mr  E.  B.  Soane  has  published  a  book 
describing  his  adventures  there  in  disguise,  which 
adds  very  materially  to  our  knowledge  of  Kurdish 
customs,  language,  and  literature.  To  these  books 
I  owe  a  considerable  portion  of  my  information. 

There  are  various  theories  as  to  the  origin  of 
the  Kurds,  but  there  is  one  fact  on  which  all  the 
theorists  agree — namely,  the  extreme  antiquity  of 
the  race.  The  name  by  which  we  know  it  to-day 
goes  back  at  least  to  Assyrian  times,  when  the 
inhabitants  of  the  mountains  to  the  east  of 
Assyria  were  known  as  "  Kardu  "  by  the  Assyrians 
themselves.  They  seem  to  have  been  troublesome 
neighbours  to  the  great  Empire,  and  punitive  ex- 
peditions were  common,  though  apparently  not 
usually  a  great  success.  Sennacherib,  as  Soane 
points  us,  is  stated  to  have  marched  against  a 
tribe  in  the  Zagros  Mountains  called  Kasshu  and 
actually  to  have  subdued  it,  particular  care  being 
taken  to  mention  in  the  record  that  this  was  the 
first  time  that  it  had  ever  been  conquered.  There 
was  evidently  a  very  close  connection,  if  not  an 
identity,  between  these  early  dwellers  in  Kurdistan 
and  the  Medes.  One  authority  states  that  they 
"coalesced"  after  the  fall  of  Nineveh;  another 
that  it  was  only  after  the  Medean  Empire  had 


Kurdish  History,  Customs,  &  Character  213 

passed  its  prime,  and  Ecbatana  was  no  longer 
their  capital,  that  the  Medes  withdrew  into  the 
mountains  and  founded  the  stock  from  which  have 
sprung  the  Kurds  of  to-day.  At  whatever  stage 
the  Aryan  invasion  took  place,  there  is  very 
visible  proof  at  the  present  day  of  the  legacy 
which  it  has  left  among  the  mountain  race,  whose 
faces  show  not  the  smallest  trace  of  Tartar  or 
Mongol  blood,  as  do  many  of  the  Turks,  but  bear, 
as  I  have  already  mentioned,  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  the  men  of  our  own  land. 

I  need  hardly  repeat  the  disagreeable  experi- 
ences which  befell  Xenophon  and  the  Ten  Thousand 
when  they  passed  through  Kurdistan  in  the  great 
retreat.  The  Carduchi,  as  they  were  now  called, 
resented  the  passage  of  the  Greeks  through  their 
country  as  they  have  that  of  all  strangers  since 
time  immemorial,  and  expressed  their  feelings 
towards  them  by  rolling  gigantic  boulders  down 
on  to  the  top  of  the  wayworn  army. 

Coming  to  medieval  times,  when  the  Kurds 
were,  beyond  question,  substantially  the  same 
people  as  they  are  to-day,  we  meet  with  the  hero 
of  the  race — Saladin.  That  worthy  antagonist  of 
Richard  Cceur  de  Lion,  and  greatest  of  the  Sultans 
of  Egypt,  came  of  the  Hakkari  tribe  who  inhabit 
the  country  to  the  south  of  Lake  Van.  As  was 
natural,  the  Kurdish  chieftains  profited  by  the 
rise  of  their  kinsmen  to  a  position  of  such  power, 
and  many  of  them  were  established  as  rulers  from 
Syria  to  Khorasan.     The  period  was,  in  fact,  the 


214  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

brightest  in  the  whole  history  of  Kurdistan,  with 
the  exception  possibly  of  the  reign  of  Selim  I.  of 
Turkey  (the  conqueror  of  that  very  sultanate  of 
Egypt  which  Saladin  had  raised  to  such  a  height), 
whose  Vizier,  the  wise  Idris,  was  also  of  Kurdish 
origin,  and,  like  his  predecessor  in  the  land  of 
Pharaoh,  remembered  his  brethren  in  the  days  of 
his  prosperity. 

The  modern  history  of  Kurdistan  is  the  history 
of  its  separate  tribes,  and  it  is  therefore  impossible 
to  give  any  account  of  it  in  a  short  space.  Several 
of  the  tribes  have,  however,  achieved  particular 
prominence,  of  which  I  may  single  out  two,  the 
Hakkari  and  the  Ardelan.  The  Hakkari,  who,  as 
we  have  seen,  boast  Saladin  as  one  of  their  tribe, 
flourished  again  in  the  sixteenth,  seventeenth,  and 
eighteenth  centuries  under  their  chiefs  who  bore  the 
title  of  Princes  of  Bitlis.  This  line  of  rulers  came 
to  an  end  by  the  capture  of  the  last  chief  by  the 
Turks  early  in  the  nineteenth  century.  The  chiefs 
of  the  second  of  these  tribes,  the  Ardelan,  held 
for  some  centuries  a  practically  independent 
position  as  Walis  of  Senna,  ruling  over  a  small 
kingdom  which  included  among  others  the  pro- 
vinces of  Avroman,  Merivan,  and  Baneh.  At 
Senna  they  had  established  a  little  court  where 
the  gentler  arts,  such  as  poetry,  were  cultivated. 
In  the  middle  of  last  century  one  of  them  married 
the  daughter  of  Path  Ali  Shah,  a  lady  of  as  vig- 
orous a  character  as  the  famous  Adela  Khanum 
of  Halebja.     This  princess  herself  ruled  at  Senna 


Kurdish  History,  Customs,  &  Character  215 

for  some  years,  but  on  the  death  of  her  son  the 
Persian  Government  managed  to  break  the  succes- 
sion and  installed  a  Governor  at  Senna,  which  has 
now  come  largely  under  the  authority  of  Teheran. 
The  language  which  the  Kurds  speak,  "  Kur- 
manj,"  as  it  is  called,  is  usually  described  as  an 
old  Persian  patois  intermingled  with  many  words 
of  strange  origin,  ancient  Chaldean  for  instance. 
Mr  Soane,  however,  who  has  made  a  profound 
study  of  it,  pronounces  it  to  be  a  complete  tongue 
of  the  greatest  antiquity,  possessing  a  rich 
grammar,  especially  in  the  case  of  the  Mukri 
dialect.  There  seems  even  to  be  a  small  litera- 
ture, which  includes  the  original  work  of  several 
Kurdish  poets  who  wrote  chiefly  under  the 
patronage  of  the  little  court  at  Senna.  Old  folk- 
songs one  would,  of  course,  expect  to  find  among 
such  a  people,  and  I  venture  to  transcribe  from 
Mr  Soane's  book  a  translation  into  English  of  a 
very  characteristic  example  : — 

"  I  would  across  the  hills  and  far  away,  wife — 
Say  shall  I  go  or  shall  I  stay,  wife  1 " 

"  If  you  would  go,  God  guard  you  on  the  track, 
And  I  will  watch  you  from  the  pass  till  you  look  back ; 
I  shall  stand  there  in  the  sun  -until  your  clothes  are  shining 

white, 
Till  you  overtake  the  pilgrims  that  are  travelling  towards  the 

night. 
What  like  of  wife  am  I,  if  I  weep  or  wail  for  you. 
Or  leave  neglected  home  and  field  to  make  a  child's  ado  1 
Christian,  Turk,  and  Persian  whimper  thus  and  fear. 
Come,  kiss  me,  and  go  swiftly,  man  and  Mukri — ah,  my  dear  ! " 


2i6  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

The  character  of  the  Kurd  has  been  very  aptly 
compared  by  Eraser  to  that  of  his  own  people  in 
the  highlands  of  Scotland.  He  says  of  them  : 
"  They  are  as  devotedly  attached  to  their  moun- 
tains as  any  Scotch  or  Swiss  highlanders  for  their 
lives  can  be.  Like  the  first,  they  are  divided  into 
clans,  acknowledging  the  supremacy  of  chiefs,  who 
are  regarded  with  as  much  devotion  and  followed 
with  the  same  blind  zeal,  and  all  on  the  same 
grounds,  protection,  and  kindness  in  return  for 
fealty  and  service.  They  are  proud,  haughty,  and 
overbearing,  exactly  in  proportion  to  their  ignor- 
ance, and  like  our  highlanders  of  old,  despise 
more  or  less  all  arts  but  those  of  murder  and 
plunder — all  professions  but  those  of  arms.  They 
have  their  feuds  with  their  neighbours,  and  make 
raids  on  the  poor  industrious  lowlander ;  and  woe 
betide  him  who  should  attempt  to  '  ascend  the 
pass  of  Ballybrugh '  or  enter  the  '  country '  of  any 
Kurdish  '  Donald  Bean  Lean '  without  guide  and 
safe-conduct.  The  same  love  of  enterprise  and 
plunder  has  been  inherent  in  both  ;  each  nation 
has  been  stained  by  like  atrocities  and  fearful 
instances  of  revenge,  and  has  been  famed  for 
the  profession,  and  generally  for  the  practice, 
of  hospitality — the  same  regard  for  word  once 
pledged — for  the  sanctity  of  the  promise  of  pro- 
tection." 

To  sum  up,  the  Kurd  is  a  loyal  clansman,  a 
pretty  fair  rogue,  and  a  born  fighter.  The  last 
characteristic  is  perhaps  the  one  which  strikes  a 


Kurdish  History,  Customs,  &  Character  217 

stranger  most.      Dr   Eoss,  who  was  the  surgeon 
attached  to  the   Bagdad  Eesidency  early  in  the 
eighteenth    century,    and    visited    the    then    all- 
powerful  Mir  of  Eewanduz  to  attempt  a  cure  for 
his  father's  bhndness,  says  of  them  :  "  The  element 
of  the  Kurd  is  war.     He  is  trained  to  it  from  his 
cradle,  and  is  never  happy  but  in  skirmishes  and 
battles;   I  have  seen  boys  of  twelve  and  fifteen 
suffering  from  the  most  severe  wounds  received  in 
recent  fights.     I  understand  their  battles  are  very 
sanguinary.      They   begin    with    their    rifles,    but 
soon  come  to  use  the  dagger  all  in  earnest."     The 
modern  Kurd,  hung  about  with  a  whole  armoury 
of  weapons,  is  a  sufficiently  strange  and  pictur- 
esque sight,   but    there    are    few  things  which   I 
regretted  more  when  travelling  through  his  coun- 
try than  the  disappearance    of  the  lance  as  his 
chief  arm.     It  was  a  long  lance  made  of  bamboo, 
having  a  large  tuft  or  ball  of  wool  concealing  the 
point,  with  the  object,   it  is   said,  of  frightening 
the    opponent's    horse   at    close   quarters.      As    a 
defence    against  the   enemy's  lance  they  carried, 
too,  a  small  round  shield  of  leather,  and  a  certani 
number  of  them  at  least  wore  armour,  either  chain 
or  plate,  the  latter  in  four  parts  made  to  fit  the 
breast,  back,  and  two  sides.      Fifty  years  ago  it 
must  have  been  a  wonderful  sight  indeed  to  see 
a  Kurdish  tribe  following  their  chief  through  the 
rocky  defiles  of  their  mountains  on  their  way  to 
raid  the  "lowlands"  or  to  wipe  out  a  blood-feud 
with  a  neighbouring  clan.     Fraser  has  given  us 


2i8  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

a  very   graphic   description    of  the   spearmen   of 
his  day  : — 

"  Both  yesterday  and  to-day  I  rode  out  in  the 
forenoon  with  the  Khan's  son  throuo^h  the  Ooshoo 
(Ushnu)  valley  to  have  an  opportunity  of  observ- 
ing something  more  of  my  Kurdish  friends  and 
inquiring  into  their  manners  and  customs.  It  was 
an  animated  sight  to  see  the  young  fellows  who 
accompanied  us  careering  along  the  plain  at  full 
speed,  as  free,  it  seemed,  as  the  beasts  they  chased, 
winding  and  turning  their  well-trained  horses  as 
they  went  through  their  spear-exercise  to  amuse 
me.  Truly  yon  mounted  Kurd,  as  he  flies  along 
as  steady  as  a  rock  upon  the  spirited  little  ani- 
mal he  bestrides,  is  a  gallant  object ;  his  splendid 
turban  gleaming  in  the  sun,  his  wide  mantel  float- 
ing away  behind  him,  and  the  long  slender  spear 
quivering  like  a  reed  as  he  shakes  his  bare  arm, 
the  loose  sleeves  of  his  tunic  and  jacket  waving 
like  streamers  in  the  wind.  I  assure  you  that  as 
a  dozen  of  these  wildly  picturesque  figures  were 
careering  around  us,  I  felt  myself  and  my  three 
or  four  kizilbashes  in  our  sober  garbs  cut  but  a 
sorry  figure.  On  they  would  come  up  to  your 
very  breast,  their  keen  steel  spear-points  glitter- 
ing like  sparks  of  lightning,  when  a  swerve  of 
their  arm  or  their  body,  imperceptible  to  you, 
would  send  them  just  clear  of  you,  to  wheel  round 
with  the  speed  of  thought  upon  the  other  flank. 
It  was  a  delightful  representation  of  the  admir- 
ably described  combat  between  the  Scottish  knight 


Kurdish  History,  Customs,  &  Character  219 

and  the  Saracen  warrior  in  the  '  Diamond  of  the 
Desert,'  which  opens  that  dehghtful  tale  '  The 
Tahsman,'  and  strange  enough  it  seemed  to  find 
oneself  amidst  the  very  people  there  described." 

Such  scenes  are,  alas  !  a  thing  of  the  past,  for 
the  modern  '303  lends  itself  less  readily  to  harm- 
less display.  The  tradition  has  lingered  on,  how- 
ever— or  so  I  take  it — in  a  peculiar  Kurdish  game 
which  is  common  throughout  the  countr}^,  and 
which,  by  a  rather  curious  coincidence,  was  played 
for  our  amusement  by  the  son  of  the  Khan  of 
Ushnu,  a  great-grandson  probably  of  the  com- 
panion to  whom  Fraser  refers.  The  game  is  of 
a  very  simple  and  primitive  nature,  and  sounds 
somewhat  insipid  when  described,  though  to  the 
onlooker  there  is  a  decided  satisfaction  in  watch- 
ing the  skill  of  the  performers.  As  smooth  a 
piece  of  ground  as  can  be  found  is  chosen,  and 
the  horsemen,  riding  singly  at  full  gallop,  when 
they  reach  the  spot,  throw  a  stout  stick,  some 
three  feet  long,  point  downwards,  on  to  the  ground 
a  little  ahead  of  the  horse.  The  stick,  if  thrown 
properly,  rebounds  into  the  air,  and  the  horse- 
men's skill  consists  in  making  his  stick  bounce 
up  in  such  a  way  that  he  can  either  ride  right 
underneath  it  or  catch  it  in  the  right  or  the  left 
hand.  Needless  to  say,  the  trick  is  far  more 
difficult  when  the  stick  is  thrown  on  the  off- 
side. 

In  matters  of  religion  the  bulk  of  the  Kurds 
are,  according  to  most  travellers,  bigoted  Sunnis, 


220  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

very  much  under  the  influence  of  their  sheikhs. 
There  are,  however,  certain  Shia  tribes  on  the 
Persian  side,  and  also  a  limited  number  of  non- 
Moslems,  including  the  Ali  Illahis  in  the  south, 
whose  tenets  I  have  already  mentioned  in  a  pre- 
vious chapter,  and  the  Yezidis.  The  Yezidis  are 
of  a  peculiar  race  of  their  own,  and  it  seems  a 
little  uncertain  whether  or  not  they  can  be  rightly 
classed  as  Kurds ;  their  habitat  is  to  the  east  of 
Mosul,  and  their  beliefs  and  rites,  which  are  very 
obscure,  have  been  the  subject  of  a  certain  amount 
of  controversy.  They  are  often,  though  some  writers 
assert  wrongly,  designated  devil-worshippers,  and 
a  sacred  imitation  peacock,  which  passes  from  hand 
to  hand  among  the  priests,  held  an  important 
place  in  their  cult,  till  the  Vali  of  Bagdad  a  few 
years  ago  led  a  campaign  against  them,  secured 
the  sacred  bird,  and  sent  it  to  Constantinople.  I 
believe,  however,  that  it  was  eventually  restored 
to  its  worshippers. 

Veneration  of  sacred  places  is  a  particularly 
marked  feature  among  the  Kurds.  In  the  barest 
districts,  where  the  woodman's  axe  has  wantonly 
denuded  the  entire  countryside,  you  will  often 
come  upon  a  single  tree,  or,  it  may  be,  a  clump 
of  trees,  evidently  of  great  age,  spared  on  account 
of  some  pious  association.  Sometimes  it  is  just 
a  "pillar  of  stones"  that  you  find  set  up  to  mark 
a  hallowed  spot — a  custom  at  least  as  old  as  the 
days  of  the  patriarch  Jacob.  The  imamzadehs, 
or  domed  tombs,  on  the  other  hand,  which  are  so 


Kurdish  History,  Customs,  &  Character  221 

common  a  feature  further  south  and  throughout 
Persia,  you  rarely  see  in  Kurdistan. 

There  is  a  good-sized  wood  near  Baneh,  cover- 
ing the  whole  side  of  a  hill,  and  providing  a  home 
for  a  numerous  colony  of  storks.  As  the  whole 
of  the  surrounding  country  has  been  almost  com- 
pletely cleared  of  timber,  one  is  naturally  led  to 
inquire  how  it  is  that  this  particular  wood  has 
been  preserved.  The  reply  you  get  is  that  the 
wood  contains  the  tooth  of  Suleyman  Beg.  Suley- 
man  Beg,  it  seems,  was  a  famous  saint  who  lived 
many  years  ago,  and  the  good  folk  of  Baneh, 
having  obtained  possession  of  his  sacred  molar, 
buried  it  with  pomp  and  ceremony  on  the  hillside 
opposite  their  city.  The  ground  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood thereupon  became  inviolable,  and  to  this 
day  no  man  has  dared  to  cut  down  a  tree  for  a 
mile  around. 

Cemeteries  one  may  almost  call  the  specialite 
of  Kurdistan.  Would  that  we  had  some  happier 
sounding  name  than  "  cemetery  "  to  call  them  by 
— its  dreary  associations  are  so  entirely  foreign 
to  the  pleasant  resting-places  of  the  Kurdish  dead. 
The  truth  is  that  the  Kurds,  instead  of  aiming 
at  tucking  away  their  ancestors  as  far  as  possible 
out  of  sight,  always  choose  the  prettiest  spots  in 
the  landscape  to  lay  their  ashes.  Often  the 
graves  occupy  one  of  the  isolated  tree -clumps 
which  I  spoke  of  a  moment  ago,  the  grey  head- 
stones sticking  up  at  all  odd  angles  beneath  the 
boughs  like   some   strange   sort  of  undergrowth. 


222  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

The  stones  themselves  are  always  carved — not 
with  a  dull  recital  of  the  dead  man's  name  and 
attributes,  as  in  an  English  churchyard,  nor  even, 
as  a  rule,  with  a  scroll  of  koranic  verses  such  as 
you  see  on  Turkish  headstones,  but  with  a  variety 
of  queer  formal  designs  whose  significance,  if  they 
have  any,  is  hidden  from  the  passing  stranger. 
The  commonest  design,  so  far  as  my  experience 
went,  was  what  looked  like  a  conventional  sun 
sending  out  rays  on  every  side,  or  else  a  shell-like 
device  of  spirals  and  wavy  lines.  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  what  part  survivals  of  Zoroas- 
trianism  play  in  these  old  carvings.  In  some 
parts  of  Kurdistan  there  are  conventional  signs 
carved  on  the  tombstones  to  indicate  sex, 
rank,  &c., — a  two-sided  comb,  for  instance,  for 
a  woman,  a  dagger  for  a  man  ;  while  above  the 
graves  of  men  of  holy  descent  an  iron  hand 
is  affixed, — a  symbol,  I  believe,  of  the  handing- 
down  of  Imam's  flags  from  one  generation  to 
the  next. 

It  was  in  the  mountains  of  Avroman  that  I  was 
particularly  struck  by  the  beaut}^  of  the  burial- 
grounds.  They  were  usually  under  the  shadow 
of  fine  oak-trees,  and  planted  thickly  with  iris 
which  at  the  time  of  our  passing  were  in  full 
bloom.  A  particular  grave  was  often  enclosed  by 
a  low  stone  wall  along  the  top  of  which  a  row  of 
pathetic  little  ornaments  had  been  arranged  by 
loving  hands — chips  of  coloured  marble,  round 
pebbles  or  flags  improvised  out  of  sticks  and  shreds 


Kurdish  History,  Customs,  &  Character  223 

of  white  cloth.  Ibex  horns,  too,  are  a  very  favour- 
ite adornment  for  graves,  and  you  usually  see  a 
pair  of  them  surmounting  the  sepulchre  of  a  tribal 
chief. 

Although  I  never  actually  witnessed  a  funeral 
in  Kurdistan,  I  came  one  day  on  a  scene  of  woe 
which  left  a  very  vivid  impression  on  my  mind. 
I  was  riding  alone  along  a  very  remote  path  in 
the  mountains  when  I  came  suddenly  on  a  house 
built  on  a  terrace  on  the  hillside.  A  group  of 
mourners,  evidently  returning  from  a  burial,  were 
winding  up  the  steep.  They  were  all  old,  grey- 
headed women,  arrayed — like  French  soldiers — in 
red  trousers  and  blue  cloaks,  and  as  they  came 
they  uttered  the  strange  hysterical  wail  which  is 
the  mourner's  cry  throughout  the  East.  Standing 
all  alone  in  front  of  the  house  was  a  young 
woman,  obviously  the  widow.  She  had  strips  of 
rags  hanging  from  her  arms  and  hands  which  she 
held  stiffly  out  of  each  side  of  her.  One  by  one 
the  old  women  arrived  at  the  crest  of  the  slope 
where  the  widow  stood  waiting,  and  as  each  one 
reached  her  she  fell  on  her  neck  and  wept.  For 
a  minute  or  so  the  two  women,  the  young  and 
the  old,  remained  clasped  to  each  other,  head  on 
shoulder,  rocking  to  and  fro  and  mourning  very 
loudly  and  bitterly.  Then  the  elder  woman 
passed  on  and  the  same  scene  was  re-enacted  with 
the  next.  I  felt  a  horrible  intruder  on  their 
grief,  but  none  of  them  spared  even  a  momentary 
glance  at  the  foreign  stranger  riding  by. 


224  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

Fraser,  who,  owing  perhaps  to  his  highland 
origin,  took  a  particular  interest  in  the  existence 
of  superstitions,  beliefs  about  ghosts  and  so  forth, 
among  the  Kurds,  and  was  very  pertinacious  in 
his  questionings  of  them  on  the  subject,  declares 
that  they  are  singularly  lacking  in  any  sense  of 
the  supernatural,  and  give  little  credence  to  jinn 
and  suchlike  beings.  Without  wishing  for  one 
moment  to  pit  my  slight  experience  against  that 
of  so  careful  an  observer  as  Fraser,  I  must  relate 
an  incident  which  happened  to  me  near  the  Zab, 
and  is  evidence  rather  in  the  contrary  direction. 

We  had  arrived  at  our  camping-place  not  far 
from  a  small  hamlet,  and  I  was  wandering  around 
while  the  tents  were  being  pitched,  when  I  came 
to  a  small  walled  pond  full  of  clear  spring  water 
with  a  dozen  or  so  of  fish  swimming  about  in  it. 
Some  of  them  were  fine  big  fellows  of  a  pound  or 
more,  and  it  was  clear  that  they  had  not  got 
where  they  were  by  natural  means,  so  I  asked 
some  Kurds  who  were  standing  around  whose 
they  were.  The  answer,  as  delivered  by  my 
Persian  servant  who  knew  a  little  Kurdish,  was 
to  the  effect  that  they  belonged  to  an  Imam,  but 
he  was  dead.  This  was  good  enough,  I  thought ; 
so  having  some  fishing-tackle  in  my  pocket,  I 
baited  it  with  lumps  of  bread  and  soon  had  three 
fine  fish  safely  on  the  bank.  The  Kurds,  of  whom 
there  were  now  a  fair  number  gathered  around, 
looked  very  askance  at  this,  and  kept  saying 
reprovingly  that  the  fish  were  "  shakhs,"  which  I 


Kurdish  History,  Customs,  &  Character  225 

mistook  for  "  shakhsy "  (meaning  personal  or 
private),  and  replied  through  my  interpreter  that 
if  only  the  owner  would  show  himself  I  would 
pay  for  the  fish.  This  was  evidently  off  the 
point,  and  it  was  only  when  another  and  more 
proficient  interpreter  appeared  on  the  scene  that 
I  was  brought  to  realise  the  enormity  of  my 
crime.  My  victims  were  not  personal  property 
but  persons.  In  fact,  they  were  the  Imam  himself. 
The  holy  man  had  died — I  don't  know  how  many 
years  or  centuries  before — and  been  buried  near 
this  spot,  and  his  soul,  by  some  unexplained  feat 
of  metempsychosis,  had  passed  into  the  fish.  By 
the  time  I  had  grasped  all  this  the  poor  creatures 
were  dead,  and  it  was  too  late  to  repair  the  crime  ; 
so,  as  it  seemed  a  pity  to  waste  them,  they  were 
cooked,  souls  or  no  souls,  and  eaten — and  very 
good  they  were.  The  Kurds,  I  think,  were 
divided  between  consternation  at  our  appalling 
act  of  sacrilege  and  a  sort  of  half-guilty  amuse- 
ment of  the  audacity  of  it.  I  suspect,  too,  that 
they  were  very  curious  to  see  what  would  happen 
to  people  who  dared  to  eat  an  Imam.  If  only  I 
had  possessed  some  knowledge  of  Kurdish  the 
incident  might  have  been  productive  of  inter- 
esting revelations  of  the  Kurd's  metaphysical 
beliefs.  As  it  was,  I  failed  even  to  discover  how 
the.  fish  got  into  the  pond,  or  how  they  managed 
to  exist  in  such  narrow  quarters  once  they  got 
there.  No  immediate  judgment  of  heaven,  I  may 
add,  fell  to  avenge  our  guilt. 

p 


226 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

FROM    THE   ZAB   TO    USHNU. 

Near  Kandol,  July  5. — We  look  from  here 
straight  down  on  to  the  Zab  at  the  point  where 
it  breaks  through  the  range.  A  little  down- 
stream from  our  last  camp  there  were  the  ruins 
of  a  bridge — that  is  to  say,  the  piers  were  standing 
but  there  was  nothinof  to  connect  them  with  each 
other.  The  Zab  being  a  snow-fed  river,  liable  to 
sudden  spates,  it  is  quite  likely  that  the  original 
bridge-builders  deliberately  omitted  the  arches  or 
anything  that  would  tend  to  dam  the  stream, 
leaving  it  to  the  local  Kurds  to  throw  across  a 
temporary  wooden  structure  which  could  be  easily 
replaced.  If  so,  no  one  seems  ever  to  take  the 
trouble  to  do  so,  and  we  found  the  bridge  as  little 
use  in  getting  us  across  as  Fraser  had  seventy-five 
years  before.  The  caravan  had  consequently  to 
ford  the  river,  and  though  the  spring  rise  had 
abated  just  sufficiently  to  make  this  possible,  the 
rush  of  the  water  was  still  so  great  as  to  make  it  a 
stiff  struggle  for  the  beasts. 

Our  camp  is  now  on  a  tree- covered  ledge  on  the 


The  Ideal  Camping-Ground. 


Be\ez  Agha,  Chief  ot  the  Mangur  Tribe. 


From  the  Zab  to  Ushnu  227 

hillside,  1000  feet  above  the  bottom  of  the  valley. 
We  had  meant  to  stop  at  Kandol  below,  but  two 
of  us  coming  on  ahead  of  the  rest  with  the  pishhar, 
and  catching  sight  of  this  delectable  spot  far  above, 
led  the  way  up.  When  the  rest  of  the  party 
arrived,  very  hot  and  dusty,  and  ready  for  tifEn 
at  the  expected  halting-place,  and  saw  the  familiar 
white  specks  perched  high  above  their  heads,  their 
observations  were,  I  believe,  hardly  printable ;  but 
we  are  all  thankful  enough  to  be  up  here  to-day, 
with  the  thermometer  at  106°  inside  the  tents,  and 
a  first-class  dust-storm  raging  in  the  valley  below 
where  our  poor  colleagues  are  sweltering.  There 
is  a  waterfall,  or  rather  nearly  perpendicular  water- 
chute,  100  feet  high,  near  the  camp,  which  adds  an 
amenity  to  the  situation,  and  provides  a  splendid 
natural  shower-bath,  and  we  get  quantities  of  the 
most  luscious  sort  of  black  mulberry.  Indeed,  we 
should  have  little  to  complain  about  but  for  a 
horde  of  tarantula  spiders — great  creatures  4 
inches  across,  armed  with  a  double  set  of  the  most 
fearsome  mandibles  —  which  have  invaded  our 
camp.  They  take  a  particular  delight  in  crawling 
up  the  side  of  one's  tent,  and  the  customary  rubber 
of  bridge  last  night  was  entirely  ruined  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  one  of  these  monsters  over 
the  edge  of  the  card-table. 

Serdasht,  July  10. — Serdasht  is  a  small  Persian 
town,  15  or  20  miles  from  the  frontier.  It  lies 
oif  our  line  of  march,  so  W.  and  I  have  ridden 
over  to  visit  it  and  see  something   of  the  inter- 


228  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

vening  country.  It  must  have  been  a  town  of 
some  importance  once,  but  is  now  an  insignificant 
place,  largely  in  ruins.  Compared  with  Baneh, 
it  is  in  far  greater  subjection  to  the  Persian  Gov- 
ernment, having  a  detachment  of  100  sarhdz  from 
Tabriz  to  act  as  garrison.  We  are  here  on  the 
border-line  between  the  two  Persian  provinces  of 
Azerbaijan  and  Kurdistan  (the  latter  word  having 
also  this  restricted  sense  as  an  administrative  area 
in  Persia),  and  from  now  onwards  we  may  expect 
to  find  far  more  evidence  of  Persian  control,  at  any 
rate  in  the  lower-lying  districts. 

Last  night,  on  our  way  here,  we  slept  under  the 
stars  at  an  altitude  of  7000  feet,  and  woke  up  in 
the  morning  to  find  it  nearly  freezing.  Our  halt- 
ing-place was  a  high  alp  covered  with  luxuriant 
pasture,  and  we  had  as  our  neighbours  an  encamp- 
ment of  Kurdish  shepherds,  besides  a  flock  of  very 
fine  sheep,  some  buffaloes,  and,  to  our  surprise,  a 
flock  of  geese.  I  only  hope  that  the  mess-secretary 
will  have  his  eyes  open  when  the  main  party  comes 
through  to-morrow!  The  Kurds  had  been  any- 
thing but  friendly  on  our  first  arrival,  and  warned 
us  off  their  alp  with  very  little  ceremony.  We 
were  a  party  of  only  seven  or  eight,  so  had  to  use 
diplomacy,  particularly  as  our  dinner  depended  on 
the  complacency  of  our  hosts.  After  considerable 
trouble  we  got  their  agha,  a  most  villainous,  one- 
eyed  ruffian,  to  come  out  and  parley.  We  then 
discovered  the  cause  of  their  ill-will.  A  quite 
insignificant  quarrel  about  some  fodder  had  taken 


From  the  Zab  to  Ushnu  229 

place  the  day  before  between  a  couple  of  the 
Eussian  cossacks  and  some  local  Kurds,  and  the 
report  of  it  had  reached  this  out-of-the-way  nomad 
encampment  in  such  a  distorted  form  that  the  men 
believed  two  of  their  comrades  to  have  been  killed. 
We  had  been  taken  for  Russians  (who  are  the 
only  Europeans  that  most  of  the  Kurds  have  ever 
heard  of),  and  might  have  fared  very  badly  indeed 
if  we  had  not  been  able  to  establish  our  nationality, 
for  no  amount  of  talking  would  convince  the  Kurds 
of  their  mistake  about  our  Russian  colleagues.  In 
fact,  it  needed  all  W.  's  persuasive  powers  to  banish 
the  scowl  from  our  aghas  face,  and  it  was  only 
after  several  tots  from  our  bottle  of  arak  (the  most 
serviceable  weapon  you  can  carry  in  Kurdistan) 
to  finally  dissolve  it  into  the  genial  smile  which 
told  that  the  situation  had  been  saved.  In  the 
meantime  W.'s  Indian  orderly,  a  born  diplomatist 
and  a  most  invaluable  asset  on  these  sort  of  occa- 
sions, had  got  his  fellow  -  Mussulmans  into  a 
thoroughly  good  humour,  and  assured  our  dinner, 
which  we  ate  in  the  centre  of  a  ring  of  the  agha's 
men,  now  completely  reconciled,  and  full  of  the 
usual  talk  about  local  "politics." 

These  nomads  of  the  frontier  are  largely  fugitives 
from  justice,  and  all  of  them  pretty  tough  char- 
acters. They  are  fine,  big  fellows,  armed  to  the 
teeth,  rifles  in  their  hands,  automatic  pistols  and 
daggers  in  their  belts,  and  anything  up  to  three 
bandoliers,  crammed  with  cartridges,  slung  round 
their  bodies.     Any  one  of  them  will  give  his  last 


230  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

farthing  to  procure  a  modern  rifle,  and  you  see 
every  sort  of  weapon,  from  smooth-bore  muzzle- 
loaders  five  feet  long,  with  an  iron  crook  to  plant 
in  the  ground  and  act  as  a  support  for  the  barrel, 
to  the  latest  pattern  Mausers,  the  price  of  which 
in  this  country  ranges  up  to  anything  short  of  £20. 
Their  pipes,  which  they  carry  along  with  the 
arsenal  in  their  belts,  are  of  a  curious  type.  They 
consist  of  a  hollow  stick  18  inches  long,  with  a 
tiny  metal  cone  for  the  tobacco  at  one  end  and 
an  amber  mouthpiece  at  the  other,  the  size  and 
shape  of  a  bantam's  egg.  An  agha,  or  other  im- 
portant personage,  will  never  light  his  own  pipe, 
but  leaves  it  to  his  servant  to  fill  and  get  going 
in  full  blast  before  he  himself  will  deign  to  puff 
at  it. 

Vezneh  Valley,  July  18. — The  Commission  has 
suffered  a  dire  blow.  Mr  Wratislaw  has  had  to 
return  home  on  account  of  his  health,  and  he 
left  this  morning  for  Tabriz,  accompanied  by  the 
doctor.  All  four  Commissions  united  to  escort 
him  for  a  mile  or  two  on  the  road — an  imposing 
cavalcade,  for  there  is  only  a  narrow  path  with 
swamp  on  each  side  down  the  valley,  so  that  we 
had  to  ride  most  of  the  way  in  single  file.  They 
parted  from  us  on  the  top  of  the  ridge  of  hills 
which  hems  in  the  valley,  and  struck  off  north  and 
homewards  while  we  returned  to  our  tents.  I  do 
not  think  there  is  a  man  in  camp,  from  the  butler 
to  the  hheesti,  who  does  not  deeply  mourn  the  loss  of 


Mukri  Kurds  at  Vezneh. 


A  Kurd  and  his  Pipe. 


From  the  Zab  to  Ushnu  231 

the  ''  Burra  Sahib."  The  duties  of  Commissioner 
will  fall  from  now  onwards  on  Captain  Wilson,  and 
those  of  Deputy  Commissioner  on  Colonel  Ryder. 

Khanieh,  July  25. — We  have  come  here  in  two 
long  marches  from  Yezneh.  I  have  never,  I  think, 
seen  more  beautiful  scenery  than  the  country  we 
passed  through  yesterday.  It  was  a  cool  morning, 
with  a  fine  wholesome  breeze  blowing,  and  the  feel 
of  an  English  autumn  day.  Fleecy  white  clouds 
were  cruising  merrily  in  the  sky,  trailing  shadow- 
patches  across  the  landscape,  and  the  distant  views 
were  soft  harmonies  of  brown  and  grey,  such  as 
you  see  in  the  Lake  district.  We  were  riding 
through  the  last  of  the  wooded  part  of  Kurdistan 
before  entering  on  the  treeless  waste  which 
stretches  from  here  to  Ararat.  As  though  doing 
their  best  to  make  up  for  this,  the  trees  were 
magnificent,  and  much  of  the  road  lay  through 
splendid  forests.  After  topping  the  pass  we 
began  to  descend  towards  the  Zab.  Ever  since 
we  crossed  it  at  Kandol  eighteen  days  ago  we 
have  been  marching  parallel  to  it,  but  I  have  only 
seen  it  once,  from  a  distance,  when  W.  and  I  went 
to  Serdasht.  The  far-off  slopes  across  the  river, 
all  chequered  in  yellow  and  brown  with  the  ripe 
corn-fields,  and  toned  to  the  softest  colours  by  a 
light  mist,  seemed  like  bits  of  another  world  when 
you  caught  a  glimpse  of  them  through  a  gap  in 
the  tree-tops.  Here  and  there  between  the  woods 
there  were  hay-meadows,  some  of  the  hay  already 


232  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

mowed  and  stacked  in  heaps,  and  the  rest  shim- 
mering hke  shot  silk  in  the  early  sunshine,  and 
jewelled  with  wild-flowers.  There  was  a  kind  of 
long-stalked  pimpernel,  masses  of  cornflowers,  and 
every  now  and  then  a  clump  of  the  pink  and 
mauve  hollyhocks  which  have  followed  us  all  the 
way  from  Zohab. 

Another  old  friend  who  greeted  us  on  the  way 
was  the  hoopoo.  What  a  vain  fellow  he  is  !  He 
comes  and  alights  on  the  path  just  in  front  of  you, 
and  deliberately  fans  out  his  pretty  crest  at  you 
out  of  the  purest  conceit.  His  pride  cost  him  dear 
in  the  old  days,  though,  if  the  legend  about  him 
be  true.  The  story  is  this.  King  Solomon,  travel- 
ling in  the  desert  at  noon,  was  greatly  afiiicted  by 
the  heat,  but  sought  in  vain  to  find  any  shade. 
Presently  a  hoopoo  flew  by.  He  saw  the  great 
monarch  in  distress,  and  asked  the  reason  of  it. 
As  soon  as  he  learnt  the  cause,  the  little  bird  sped 
off  and  collected  all  his  tribe,  who,  flocking  to- 
gether in  the  air  above  King  Solomon's  head, 
formed  such  a  screen  from  the  sun  that  he  was 
able  to  take  his  noontide  sleep  in  peace.  When 
he  awoke  refreshed,  he  asked  the  hoopoos  what 
reward  they  would  choose,  giving  them  leave  to 
name  whatever  they  most  desired.  After  a  long 
confabulation  the  hoopoos  returned  answer  through 
their  spokesman  that  they  wished  above  all  things 
to  be  given  each  a  golden  crown.  At  once  a  crest 
of  pure  gold  grew  from  the  head  of  each  of  the 
tribe.       But    their    happiness    was     short  -  lived. 


From  the  Zab  to  Ushnu  233 

Though  no  one  had  paid  attention  to  them  before, 
they  now  became  so  valuable  a  prey  that  every 
man's  hand  was  turned  against  them.  In  despair 
the  survivors  returned  to  King  Solomon  and 
begged  that  this  blessing  which  had  turned  to  a 
curse  might  be  removed.  "  WelJ,"  said  the  King, 
"you've  brought  it  on  your  own  heads  by  your 
conceit,  and  you've  no  one  but  yourselves  to  blame 
for  it.  But  I  have  not  forgotten  what  you  did  for 
me  in  the  desert,  so  I  will  save  you  from  further 
persecution."  At  that  moment  the  crown  of  gold 
on  the  head  of  each  turned  to  a  crown  of  feathers, 
and  from  that  day  the  hoopoes  have  been  once 
more  free  from  molestation.  But  I  am  afraid  they 
never  really  learnt  that  lesson  ! 

But  to  come  back  again  to  our  march  through 
the  fields  and  the  oak-woods.  As  we  zigzagged 
down  the  slope  the  Zab  came  into  sight.  It  was 
nearly  as  broad  as  where  we  had  forded  it  forty 
miles  lower  down,  and  infinitely  wilder,  charging 
downwards  through  narrow  gaps  between  the  hills 
and  foaming  noisily  over  rocks  and  rapids.  Instead 
of  crossing  it  our  path  led  us  parallel  to  it  up- 
stream, and  for  miles  we  climbed  up  and  down 
over  the  spurs  which  run  right  down  to  its  banks. 
It  was  bad  country  for  the  mules,  but  glorious  for 
the  traveller.  Every  valley  was  a  delight  with  its 
wooded  crags  and  splashing  torrents,  and  glimpses 
far  up  and  beyond  of  the  great  Kandil  range,  a 
huge  relentless  wall  of  rock  streaked  with  snow. 

At  the  top  of  one  rise,  instead  of  dropping  again. 


234  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

as  so  often  before,  down  into  another  guhy,  we 
came  out  on  to  a  great  broad  plateau  of  corn-land 
with  a  sweeping  view  far  aw^ay  to  the  north,  where 
a  massive  snow-mountain  half  shrouded  in  cloud 
formed  a  noble  background.  The  fields  were  full 
of  men  reaping,  and  groups  of  chocolate-coloured 
Kurdish  tents  were  dotted  about  everywhere. 
Here  we  camped,  just  outside  a  village.  Each 
village  has,  at  this  time  of  year,  its  counterpart 
in  the  form  of  an  encampment  near  by  where  the 
inhabitants  pass  the  summer.  The  tents  are  very 
characteristic  in  shape.  They  are  very  long  and 
low,  and  consist  of  a  brown  woollen  material  which 
ends  in  a  long  fringe  near  the  ground,  and,  in  the 
absence  of  any  sort  of  ridge-pole,  is  poked  up  by 
the  row  of  uprights  inside  into  a  series  of  shapeless 
knobs,  each  of  which,  in  the  best  tents,  is  adorned 
with  a  large  woollen  tassel.  The  villages  them- 
selves are  nothing  but  a  collection  of  very  wretched 
mud  huts  interspersed  with  mountainous  heaps  of 
dried  dung-fuel,  with  very  occasionally  more  am- 
bitious buildings  adorned  with  arches  and  loggias, 
which  seem  to  point  to  the  memory  of  better 
things  in  times  long  past. 

To-day  we  marched  on  here  through  a  string 
of  such  villages,  out  of  every  one  of  which  huge 
white  sheep-dogs  rushed  furiously  at  us  as  we 
passed,  and  were  duly  repulsed  with  whips  and 
stones.  They  are  ferocious -looking  animals,  but 
in  reality  very  tame  compared  with  the  brutes  you 
find  in  most  parts  of  Asia  Minor  or  the  Balkans. 


From  the  Zab  to  Ushnu  235 

Mohammad  Amin  Agha,  a  big  local  chief,  came 
to  call  this  afternoon.     Every  one  else  being  away 
from    camp    either    on    survey    v^ork    or   erecting 
pillars,  only  B.  and  myself  were  there  to  repre- 
sent the  majesty  of  the  British  Empire  when  the 
agha  and  his   suite   arrived.      I  think  B.   rather 
bewilders  these  dignified  old  gentlemen  who  come 
to  visit  us,  his   methods  with  them   being  some- 
what of  the  slap-him-on-the-back,  "  how  are  you, 
old  buck?"  variety,  but  they  appreciate  genuine 
cordiality,  and  the  visit  was  quite  a  social  success. 
Amin  Agha  is  a  polite  old  Kurd  with  fairly  pol- 
ished and  very  agreeable  manners.      He  sat   for 
the  sake  of  his  dignity,  but  not  at  all  at  ease, 
on  a  mess- chair,  while  his  followers  squatted  all 
round  him.     His  little  son  of  ten  years  old  came 
too,    and    was    vastly   interested    in    a    sparklet- 
syphon,  till  some  one  let  it  off  in  his  direction 
and  nearly  frightened  him  out  of  his  wits.     The 
"grown-ups"   we    amused  by  showing   them   our 
rifles — a  source   of  never-ending  interest  to  any 
Kurd,  —  my    own    Mauser   with    its    hair-trigger 
adjustment   creating   a   great   sensation,   as  they 
had  never  seen  one  of  the  kind  before.     We  then 
produced    an    old   '  Elustration'   with    pictures  of 
King   George   and  Queen  Mary;    the  King  was 
much  applauded  for  his  fine  robes,  but  the  agha 
appeared  a  little  shocked  by  the  Queen  wearing 
evening  dress.     Then  it  was  their  turn  to  show 
us  their  guns  and  daggers,  some  of  the  latter  of 
fine    workmanship.      At    this    moment    the    mess 


236  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

hhitmagar  appeared  in  his  ordinary  green  uniform 
and  turban,  and  our  guest  (in  whose  country  green 
is  worn  only  by  seyyids),  jumping  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  our  humble  menial  was  a  descendant  of 
the  Prophet,  rose,  seized  his  hand  and  kissed  it 
fervently.  The  hhitmagar,  for  fear  of  the  compli- 
cations, which  might  otherwise  ensue,  was  hastily 
prompted  in  Hindustani  not  to  reveal  that  he  was 
but  an  ordinary  mortal,  and  submitted  with  a  very 
sheepish  look  to  the  ordeal.  We  could  not  help 
feeling  rather  guilty,  however  innocent  of  the  in- 
tention to  deceive,  especially  as  the  agha  had 
shown  us  a  particular  mark  of  courtesy  when  we 
first  entered  his  district  by  riding  out  to  meet  us 
with  100  of  his  men,  who  acted  as  a  sort  of  guard 
of  honour,  lining  up  on  each  side  of  the  path  as  we 
passed  along  it. 

Pasova,  July  27. — To-day's  march  was  entirely 
in  the  plain,  a  great  change  from  the  break-neck 
mountain  tracks  which  have  been  our  only  roads 
since  we  left  Kasr-i-Sherin.  Our  mules  are  amaz- 
ingly sure  -  footed,  and  we  have  had  only  two 
casualties  during  all  this  time.  The  Persians 
have  been  less  fortunate ;  only  the  other  day  four 
of  their  animals  fell  down  a  kud,  and  the  "  Vic- 
torious Leader,"  like  Jill,  went  tumbling  after,  but 
happily  sustained  nothing  worse  than  a  sprained 
thumb.  The  poor  Persian  doctor  fell  too,  but 
without  hurt  to  his  arm,  I  am  glad  to  say. 

This  morning  we  crossed  the  Zab  for  the  last 


Kurdish  Tent. 


Little  Musa  Kha 


From  the  Zab  to  Ushnu  237 

time,  almost  at  its  head -waters.  There  was  a 
village  at  the  ford  surrounded  by  the  usual  circle 
of  haystacks,  which  provide  fodder  for  the  animals 
during  the  four  winter  months  when  the  whole 
country  is  under  deep  snow,  and  a  dwelling  for  the 
storks  during  the  summer.  Several  village  E-achels 
came  down  with  great  earthenware  pots  on  their 
heads  to  draw  water  as  we  passed,  and  with  them  a 
small  boy  who  looked  delightfully  comical  in  his 
very  short  shirt  and  the  tall  cap  of  the  Mamash 
tribe,  which  is  half-way  between  a  pierrot's  cap  and 
a  bishop's  mitre.  A  little  farther  on  we  met  the 
agha  of  the  Mamash  looking  very  fine  with  his 
men-of-war  round  him,  though  the  effect  was  a 
little  spoilt  by  the  presence  of  an  ordinary  black 
umbrella  held  over  his  head  by  a  mounted  servant. 

Ushnu,  July  29. — By  crossing  an  insignificant- 
looking  watershed  on  our  way  here  yesterday,  we 
left  the  basin  of  the  Tigris  behind  us  for  good  and 
all  and  passed  into  the  basin  which  drains  into 
the  lake  of  Urmia.  From  the  top  of  the  ridge  we 
could  just  discern  a  straight  line  on  the  northern 
horizon  which  marked  the  lake.  In  the  more  im- 
mediate foreground  we  had  a  fine  view  of  the 
valley  of  the  Gadyr  in  which  Ushnu  lies.  It  is 
in  reality  a  large  plain,  and,  spread  out  as  it  was 
before  our  feet,  it  reminded  one  for  all  the  world 
of  a  landscape  by  some  old  Dutch  painter.  The 
whole  expanse  was  studded  with  little  villages, 
each    nestling    in    a   grove    of  apricots,    with    an 


238  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

avenue  of  poplars  leading  out  into  the  flat  and 
treeless  plain.  Through  the  middle  ran  the  Gadyr 
itself,  lost  among  a  maze  of  canals  which  branched 
off  to  each  village  in  turn  and  fed  the  rich  corn- 
fields which  spread  from  slope  to  slope. 

Ushnu  itself  lies  tucked  away  in  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  plain,  right  under  the  mountains, 
half  of  it  in  the  plain  and  half  on  the  hillside. 
It  is  the  largest  town  we  have  seen  since  Kasr-i- 
Sherin,  and  boasts  a  real  Persian  governor  in  uni- 
form, and  is  garrisoned  by  a  battalion  of  Russian 
cossacks,  a  token  that  we  are  now  within  the 
Russian  "zone."  The  big  man  of  the  place,  how- 
ever, is  the  white  -  haired  old  chieftain  of  the 
Zerzaw,  a  sedentary  Kurdish  tribe  who  inhabit 
Ushnu  and  the  plain.  They  are  distinguishable 
from  the  other  Mukri  tribes  by  wearing,  instead 
of  a  pointed  cap,  a  most  singular  head-dress  com- 
posed of  a  twisted  rope  of  stuff  wound  round  and 
round  in  an  ever-narrowing  spiral,  so  that  it  forms 
a  covering  to  their  heads  which  I  can  only  com- 
pare to  the  sugar  ornaments  on  a  Christmas  cake. 
I  wonder  if  any  country  on  earth  can  produce 
such  a  variety  of  sartorial  absurdities  as  Kur- 
distan ? 

Later. — We  have  just  come  in  from  paying  calls 
on  the  Governor  and  the  old  chieftain,  Mansur- 
ul-Mamalik  (the  Helper-of- States).  The  former 
received  us  in  a  favourite  Persian  way — that  is, 
in  a  small,  gaily- coloured  tent  pitched  by  the  bank 
of  a  stream, — all  Persians  have  a  particular  love 


From  the  Zab  to  Ushnu  239 

for  the  sound  of  running  water.  After  the  formal 
two  cups  of  tea,  supplemented  by  the  local 
dishes  of  vanilla  ice  and  apricots,  we  went  on 
to  call  on  Mansur-ul-Mamalik.  His  youngest  son 
came  to  the  outer  door  to  meet  us,  a  very  merry- 
eyed  youngster  of  twelve  or  fourteen,  with  such 
remarkably  English  features  that  it  was  hard  to 
get  rid  of  the  idea  that  he  was  an  English  school- 
boy dressed  up  for  a  fancy-dress  ball,  for  he  wore 
a  suit  of  dark  green,  with  enormous  trousers  and 
a  rolled  cummerbund  hiding  the  whole  of  his  body. 
It  was  a  bit  of  a  shock  to  learn,  as  we  did  soon 
after,  that  he  had  a  wife  and  was  a  confirmed 
gambler,  losing  his  X20  or  so  at  a  sitting. 

Musa  Khan,  as  his  name  was,  led  us  across  a 
garden  and  up  a  flight  of  steps  into  his  father's 
reception-room.  It  was  a  very  long  room,  with 
mud  walls  containing  a  series  of  alcoves  full  of 
cushions  for  "  company"  to  sit  on,  and  hung  with 
gauze  curtains  of  pink  and  green.  The  spaces 
between  the  alcoves  were  occupied  with  oleographs, 
chiefly  pictures  of  crowned  heads,  and  specimens 
of  Persian  caligraphy  gaudily  framed.  A  foot  or 
two  below  the  ceiling  ran  a  ledge  all  round  the 
room  on  which  was  disposed  the  most  wonderful 
array  of  china  cups  and  dishes,  lamps  and  bottles — 
enough  to  stock  a  china  shop.  On  the  wall  facing 
me  alone  I  counted  more  than  sixty  bottles ;  there 
were  wine-bottles,  beer-bottles,  mustard-pots,  spice- 
jars,  and  a  dozen  other  varieties,  all  of  them  merely 
ornamental,  I  imagine,  as  the  old  fellow  is  a  strict 


240  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

teetotaller.  We  ourselves  were  placed  at  the  end 
of  the  room  on  a  row  of  family  chests,  while  the 
aglia  and  his  two  sons,  the  elder  a  youth  of  twenty- 
three,  squatted  at  our  feet.  They  are  a  truly 
aristocratic  family  in  birth,  looks,  and  manners. 
The  old  man  told  us  how  only  a  few  years  before 
his  written  family  history  had  been  stolen  and  lost ; 
it  went  back,  he  said,  250  years,  and  included  the 
adventures  of  one  of  his  ancestors  who  accompanied 
Nadir  Shah  on  his  campaigns.  There  is  nothing 
improbable  in  this,  for  the  Kurds  are  an  excep- 
tionally pure-bred  race,  the  tribal  system,  as  among 
the  Arabs,  having  the  effect  of  preventing  almost 
completely  marriage  with  outsiders.  Both  the  sons 
were  strikingly  handsome,  with  the  large  eyes  and 
finely-moulded  arched  eyebrows  that  one  knows 
so  well  in  old  Persian  miniatures.  Their  father  is 
a  famous  raconteur,  and  told  us  endless  yarns, 
thumping  his  fist  on  his  knee  in  ecstasy  at  the 
good  points.  Many  of  his  stories  were  old  Persian 
fables,  one  which  he  told  with  particular  zest  being 
the  following  : — 

"  A  leopard  strolling  in  the  rice-fields  met  a  cat. 
'  Hullo,'  said  he,  '  what  kind  of  a  beast  are  you  ? 
You've  got  whiskers  like  mine,  and  a  tail  like 
mine,  and  stripes  like  mine,  but  you're  so  remark- 
ably small  ;  what  in  the  world  is  the  matter  with 
you  ? '  The  cat  was  much  hurt  by  the  leopard's 
remarks,  but  he  answered  politely,  '  Well,  you 
see,  I  was  like  you  once  upon  a  time,  but  I  fell  in 
with  humans,  and  now  I  live  with  them  and  have 


The  Zab  to  Ushnu  241 

grown  quite  small  and  weak,  as  you  see  me.'  '  Oh, 
and  what  sort  of  creatures  are  these  humans,  then  ? ' 
asked  the  leopard.  '  I'd  like  to  meet  one  and  show 
him  what  one  of  us  can  be  like — will  you  introduce 
me  ? '  '  All  right,'  said  the  cat,  and  oif  he  went 
and  fetched  a  man  who  was  working  in  the  rice. 
When  the  man  came  the  leopard  said  to  him, 
'  Look  at  me  ;  I'm  the  same  breed  as  your  cat  here, 
but  I'm  strong  and  I'm  going  to  show  you  my 
strength ;  will  you  fight  me  ? '  The  man  was 
afraid  to  refuse,  so  he  said,  *  Yes,  I'll  fight  you, 
but  I  left  my  strength  at  home  this  morning,  and 
you  must  let  me  go  and  fetch  it.'  The  leopard 
agreed  and  the  man  went  away ;  but  after  he  had 
gone  a  little  distance  he  came  back  and  said, 
'  That's  all  very  well,  but  how  do  I  know  that  you 
won't  run  away  while  I'm  gone,  and  so  give  me 
all  my  trouble  for  nothing  ?  '  The  leopard  swore 
he  would  wait  till  the  man  returned,  but  the  man 
said  he  could  not  trust  him.  '  Let  me  tie  you  up 
in  my  rice-bag  so  as  to  make  sure,'  he  said,  and 
after  a  little  persuasion  the  leopard  allowed  himself 
to  be  tied  up  in  the  rice-bag.  Then  the  man  went 
home  for  his  gun.  '  Ah,'  said  the  cat,  who  knew 
what  would  happen,  'you  see  it's  just  as  I  told 
you.  You,  too,  have  fallen  in  with  humans,  and 
you've  become  as  small  and  weak  as  me.'  " 

I  don't  quite  know  where  the  moral  lies,  or  if 
there  is  one,  but  the  story  as  told  in  simple,  vivid 
Persian  by  the  old  man  was  altogether  delightful. 
After  the  story -telling  the  agha  showed  us  his 

Q 


242  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

collection  of  Persian  manuscripts.  They  were 
chiefly  the  verses  of  Hafiz  or  Saadi,  some  of  them 
bearing  dates  as  far  back  as  1040  a.h. — that  is, 
more  than  300  years  ago.  The  writing  was  ex- 
quisite, page  following  page  with  never  a  stroke 
or  a  curve  in  which  one  could  detect  the  slightest 
imperfection,  and  written  with  the  same  meticu- 
lous care  on  the  hundredth  page  as  on  the  first. 

At  sunset  (for  we  are  in  the  month  of  Ramazan) 
dinner  was  brought  in.  The  dishes  were  arranged 
on  four  huge  trays  which  were  set  in  a  line  down 
the  middle  of  the  room.  We  were  invited  to  share 
the  meal,  and  I  have  never  tasted  such  kababs  and 
delicious  junkets  since  I  was  in  Constantinople. 
For  drink,  a  bowl  of  sour  milk  with  lumps  of  snow 
floating  in  it  went  the  round  of  the  table,  each 
person  in  turn  using  a  large  wooden  ladle  which 
was  passed  round  with  the  bowl,  —  not  strictly 
hygienic,  I  daresay,  but  one  forgets  that  amid 
such  surroundings.  The  different  members  of  the 
household  strolled  in  one  by  one  and  took  their 
places  at  the  common  board,  and  so  we  left  them — 
the  courtly  old  aristocrat,  surrounded  by  his  sons 
and  dependants,  a  striking  picture  of  dignity  and 
simplicity  combined. 

Ushnu,  Aug.  2. — The  whole  Commission  was 
entertained  by  the  Russian  officers  of  the  garrison 
to-day  to  an  al  fresco  luncheon-party.  We  rode 
through  the  town,  along  the  bazaar  which  crosses 
the  river  in  the  form  of  a  covered  bridge  like  the 


The  Zab  to  Ushnu  243 

Ponte  Yecchio  at  Florence,  and  out  to  an  orchard 
where  long  tables  had  been  improvised  beneath 
awnings  hung  across  from  tree  to  tree.  Our  princi- 
pal host  was  a  very  genial  grey-haired  captain,  who 
spoke  only  Russian,  but  made  up  in  action  what 
he  could  not  express  in  words  by  making  frequent 
tours  of  the  table  and  clinking  glasses  with  each  of 
us  in  turn.  The  lunch  lasted  for  two  and  a  half 
hours,  and  the  fluid  refreshment  fulfilled  the 
best  Eussian  traditions  of  hospitality.  Out  of 
one  and  the  same  Persian  tea-glass  I  drank  (my 
neighbour  gave  me  no  choice)  vodka,  beer,  red 
and  white  wines,  Jcvas,  and  Russian  benedictine, 
— and  all  this  at  96°  in  the  shade  ! 

During  the  meal  the  soldiers  provided  a  con- 
tinuous entertainment  which  added  great  zest  to 
the  occasion.  There  was  an  infantry  company, 
commanded  by  the  jovial  captain,  and  two  separate 
detachments  of  Cossacks,  one  from  the  Caucasus 
and  one  from  the  Black  Sea  provinces.  The 
infantrymen  were  clumsy,  good-natured -looking 
peasants  in  the  usual  loose  blouses  and  top-boots, 
but  the  Cossacks  wore  a  very  smart  uniform 
consisting  of  a  grey  Astrakan  kalpaJc,  a  rust- 
coloured  coat  with  very  long,  full  skirts,  belted 
tightly  at  the  waist  and  cut  down  to  a  point  in 
front  so  as  to  show  a  sort  of  black  "parson's 
waistcoat "  underneath,  breeches  and  riding-boots. 
The  coat  has  a  row  of  Httle  pockets  arranged  in 
a  slant  across  each  breast,  with  a  cartridge  in 
each,    and   the    men    carry   a    long    sheath -knife 


244  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

attached  to  the  buckle  of  their  belts  in  front — an 
awkward-looking  piece  of  equipment.  The  officer's 
uniform  is  almost  precisely  the  same,  but  he 
carries  a  sabre  and  has  a  row  of  silver  dummies 
instead  of  real  cartridges  on  his  breast. 

The  men  arranged  themselves  in  circles,  each  man 
facing  inwards,  and  sang.  It  was  unaccompanied 
part -singing  and  beautiful  to  listen  to.  They 
tackled  grand  opera  quite  cheerfully,  but  they 
were  best  in  their  own  Russian  folk-songs.  After 
a  while  a  trio  of  soldiers  appeared  with  guitars 
and  played,  sitting  on  the  grass,  while  the  Cos- 
sacks danced.  It  was  the  typical  Eussian  dancing, 
much  slapping  of  the  thighs  and  boots,  and  the 
dancers  bobbing  down  till  they  sat  on  the  heels, 
and  then  shooting  out  one  leg  straight  at  front. 
Sometimes  two  of  them  danced  together,  back  to 
back,  every  now  and  then  clicking  the  soles  of 
their  boots  against  each  other's  in  time  to  the 
music ;  and  finally,  two  of  their  long  knives  were 
planted  point-downwards  in  the  ground  and  the 
Cossacks  performed  a  sword-dance,  each  man  hold- 
ing his  own  knife  with  the  blade  between  his 
teeth  as  he  danced.  The  dancing  was  evidently 
as  good  fun  for  them  as  it  was  for  us. 

When  the  luncheon  was  over,  we  adjourned  to 
a  meadow  to  see  an  exhibition  of  trick-riding. 
Every  single  Cossack  is  an  accomplished  trick-rider, 
and  some  of  their  feats  were  really  astonishing. 
One  of  the  tricks  consists  of  two  men  standing 
upright  on  their  horses'  backs  at  the  gallop,  while 


Russian  Cossack. 


Tobacco  Fields,  U 


,  urmia. 


The  Zab  to  Ushnu  245 

a  third  stands  on  their  shoulders  and  holds 
the  regiment's  standard  in  his  hand.  Another 
favourite  performance  is  for  one  man  to  gallop 
along  with  a  led  horse,  vault  off  on  to  the  ground, 
and  then  up  again  right  over  the  back  of  his  own 
horse  on  to  that  of  the  other  horse  on  the  farther 
side.  To  see  these  tricks,  which  would  have 
surprised  one  at  the  Royal  Military  Tournament, 
being  performed  off-hand  in  a  rough  meadow,  made 
one  realise  that  the  Cossack's  reputation  for 
horsemanship  is  founded  on  very  substantial 
fact. 


246 


CHAPTEE    XY. 

THE   LAST   STAGE. 

We  left  Ushnu  on  July  29,  and  on  August  4, 
before  we  had  reached  Urmia,  news  of  the  out- 
break of  war  reached  us.  It  was  the  Russian 
Commissioner  who  first  received  it  by  means  of 
a  telegram  from  the  commander  of  the  Russian 
troops  at  Urmia.  To  say  that  it  fell  among  us 
like  a  thunderbolt  would  be  to  use  a  mild  simile, 
for — like  most  other  Englishmen  who  found  them- 
selves at  that  moment  in  the  remoter  corners  of 
the  earth — we  had  heard  not  a  whisper  of  warning 
beforehand.  For  the  first  few  days  all  the  de- 
tails that  reached  us  came  either  through  the 
Russian  ofiacial  reports  or  else  emanated  from 
the  "  Agence  Ottomane  "  from  across  the  frontier. 
The  news  that  flowed  from  these  two  sources 
was  of  the  nature  of  an  "  alternating  current," — 
the  Russian  accounts  being  decidedly  on  the 
optimistic  side,  while  the  famous  "  Agence,"  need- 
less to  say,  gave  us  the  Berlin  version  of  events 
undilute.     It  came  about,   for  instance,  that  the 


The  Last  Stage  247 

latter  having  on  one  day  disposed  of  the  whole 
British  Fleet  at  the  bottom  of  the  North  Sea, 
we  were  consoled  on  the  morrow  by  a  rival 
rumour  which  resuscitated  all  our  ships  and 
replaced  them  on  the  bed  of  the  ocean  by  eleven 
German  Dreadnoughts  !  Our  relief  was  great 
when,  a  few  days  later,  we  began  to  get  our 
own  regular  supply  of  news  in  the  shape  of 
daily  "Reuters"  forwarded  on  by  our  Consul 
at  Tabriz,  who  received  them,  only  two  or  three 
days  late,  by  way  of  India  and  Teheran. 

Keen  as  everybody  naturally  was  to  return 
to  his  own  country  at  such  a  time,  there  was 
nothing  to  prevent  our  w^ork  on  the  frontier  con- 
tinuing so  long  as  none  of  the  nations  we  repre- 
sented were  actually  at  war  with  one  another. 
Turkey  had  indeed  ordered  a  partial  mobilisation 
at  the  outbreak  of  war,  and  we  were  prepared 
to  hear  of  her  participation  at  any  moment ;  but 
though  her  two  representatives,  who  were  both 
officers  on  the  active  list,  were  obviously  on  tenter- 
hooks, the  Porte  sent  no  orders  to  abandon 
the  delimitation,  so  we  merely  forced  the  pace 
in  the  hopes  of  reaching  the  end  before  anything 
more  happened. 

The  hundred  miles  or  so  of  frontier  which  now 
remained  to  be  settled  followed  the  main  water- 
shed almost  without  a  break  the  whole  way  to 
Ararat,  and  all  the  Commission  had  to  do  for 
the  greater  part  of  the  distance  was  to  put  up 
pillars  on  each  of  the  passes.     The  caravan  was 


248  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

able,  as  a  rule,  to  pursue  a  fairly  level  course 
along  the  edge  of  the  plain,  but  the  sub -com- 
missions to  whom  it  fell  to  erect  the  pillars,  often 
had  long  and  severe  climbs  to  reach  the  crest. 
At  least  one  of  the  passes  was  more  than  10,000 
feet  above  sea-level,  and  though  we  were  well  into 
August,  and  at  about  the  latitude  of  Tunis,  we 
had  to  cross  snow  -  fields  to  reach  the  top,  and 
bitter  cold  it  was  when  we  got  there.  The  view 
on  the  farther  side  was  a  great  contrast  to  the 
undulating  plains  of  Azerbaijan  from  which  we 
had  ascended,  the  wild  mountains  of  Turkish 
Kurdistan  presenting  a  picture  of  nature  in  her 
grimest  mood  of  upheaval.  Even  at  these  chilly 
heights,  however,  flowers  grew  in  profusion. 
Great  sheets  of  purple  vetch  spread  between  the 
snow-filled  gullies,  mingled  here  and  there  with 
some  yellow  alpine  plant ;  but  what  particularly 
caught  one's  eye  was  a  large  thistle  in  colour  of 
the  deepest  ultramarine — head,  stalk,  leaves,  and 
all  were  of  the  same  deep  blue,  so  that  the  plant 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  dipped  bodily  into  a 
dyer's  vat. 

On  one  of  the  highest  of  these  passes, 
named  Keleshfn,  we  came  once  again  upon  the 
handiwork  of  some  frontier  commission  of  an 
earlier  age.  At  the  very  top  of  the  pass,  ex- 
actly on  the  line  of  our  new  frontier,  stood  a 
pillar  —  a  monolith  with  an  inscription  in  cunei- 
form characters.  The  existence  of  the  pillar  was 
already  known,  as  it  had  been  visited  as  much 
as  eighty  years  ago  by  the  archaeologist  Schultz, 


The  Last  Stage  249 

who  was  sent  to  Kurdistan  and  the  neighbouring 
countries  by  the  French  Institute  to  examine  all 
the  monuments  of  antiquity  and  "  arrow-headed  " 
inscriptions  which  he  might  find.  Indeed  it  is 
quite  possible  that  this  very  inscription  was  the 
direct  cause  of  that  poor  scientist's  death,  for  it 
was  in  this  neighbourhood  that  he  was  attacked 
and  shot  dead  by  the  guards  who  had  been  pro- 
vided for  him  by  the  Khan  of  Julamerk  —  the 
cause  of  whose  gross  act  of  treachery  has  always 
remained  unknown. 

This  same  pass  of  Keleshm  was  in  all  proba- 
bility the  highroad  from  Nineveh  to  Ecbatana, 
and  no  doubt  in  the  days  of  the  kings  of  Assyria 
a  considerable  stream  of  traffic  flowed  along  the 
track  which  is  nowadays  trodden  by  few  except 
the  local  nomads.  Tobias,  it  may  be  remem- 
bered, undertook  this  journey  on  his  way  to 
Ecbatana  to  court  his  fair  cousin  after  his  ad- 
venture with  the  fish  on  the  banks  of  the  Tigris. 
(As  for  the  fish,  by  the  way,  Tobias's  fears  of 
being  swallowed  were  less  ill-founded  than  might 
appear,  for  the  monsters  that  are  caught  near 
Mosul — the  old  site  of  Nineveh — are  sometimes 
of  such  dimensions  that  when  slung  across  a 
donkey's  back  their  head  and  tail  touch  the 
ground  on  either  side.) 

It  was  at  this  stage  that  our  Commission  sus- 
tained a  grievous  loss  in  the  person  of  the  cook. 
The  poor  fellow,  together  with  his  compatriot 
the  butler,  had  from  the  start  protested  against 
being   obliged   to   ride,    the    Goanese    having,    it 


250  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

appears,  a  peculiar  inaptitude  for  this  method  of 
locomotion  —  so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  on  the 
first  day  out  from  Mohammerah  they  both 
tramped  their  weary  twenty  miles  on  foot,  arriv- 
ing in  camp  very  woe  -  begone  objects  in  their 
dusty  black  clothes.  Next  day  the  doctor — 
who,  being  mess  secretary,  was  responsible  for 
the  quality  of  our  dinner  —  was  obdurate,  and 
mounted  them  willy  -  nilly  on  muleback.  Their 
fates  thereafter  proved  as  divergent  as  those  of 
Pharaoh's  cook  and  butler  of  yore  ;  for  whereas 
the  butler  finished  up  an  expert  and  accomplished 
horseman,  the  cook  had  his  worst  forebodings 
realised  when  he  toppled  off  the  back  of  a  pack- 
mule  into  a  ditch,  and  in  doing  so  fractured  his 
collar-bone. 

In  spite  of  our  anxiety  to  finish  the  frontier 
with  the  greatest  speed,  it  was  impossible  to 
avoid  a  delay  of  some  days  at  Urmia  in  order 
to  refit  and  to  rest  the  men  and  beasts ;  so  we 
broke  off  work  when  we  reached  the  district  of 
Tergaver,  and  marched  to  Urmia  across  the  plain. 
This  plain  of  Urmia  is  perhaps  the  most  fertile 
part  of  the  Shah's  dominions,  and  but  for  the 
Kurdish  raiders  would  be  the  most  prosperous. 
It  is  a  large  expanse  of  cultivated  land  fifty  miles 
long  by  eighteen  broad,  producing  great  quantities 
of  corn  and  tobacco,  and  lies  between  the  moun- 
tains of  Kurdistan  and  the  lake  which  bears  the 
same  name  as  the  town.  We  had  no  time 
during    our    short    stay   at   Urmia    to   visit   the 


The  Last  Stage  251 

lake ;  but  its  salt  waters  present  such  an  un- 
usual phenomenon  that  I  cannot  resist  quoting 
the  description  given  of  them  by  the  German 
traveller,  Dr  Moritz  Wagner,  who  visited  their 
shores  in  1843. 

"  In  the  summer  months,  when  the  great  lake 
is  commonly  as  quiet  as  a  pond  in  an  English 
park,  a  deposit  of  mud  results  from  the  evapora- 
tion of  the  water.  The  prevalent  colour  of  the 
water  is  blackish  blue  in  the  centre,  and  at  a 
distance  it  appears  azure,  whereas  close  at  hand 
it  looks  green  and  almost  black,  and  so  dense 
that  fatty  bodies,  such  as  pigs,  do  not  sink  in 
it."  He  goes  on  to  say  that  a  chemical  analysis 
of  the  water  shows  it  to  contain  an  immense 
number  of  ingredients  resulting  from  the  decom- 
position of  water-plants,  the  mass  of  which  he 
describes  as  being  so  great  as  to  stop  the  break- 
ers at  some  distance  from  shore.  The  learned 
doctor  is  then  led  to  speculate  as  follows  on 
the  medicinal  properties  of  the  water  :  "If  Lake 
Urmia  were  in  the  centre  of  Europe,  our  physicians 
would  probably  send  thither  thousands  of  their 
patients  who  could  derive  no  benefit  from  the 
whole  pharmacopoeia,  and  who  knows  if  a  plunge 
in  its  waters  might  not  renovate  them.  I,  at  all 
events,  can  affirm  from  personal  experience  that 
ten  baths  in  the  German  Ocean  do  not  afford  so 
much  stimulus  to  the  skin  or  so  much  exhilaration 
to  the  nerves  as  the  water  of  this  lake,  which 
holds  so  much   more   salt  and  iodine   in  solution 


252  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

than  even  the  Dead  Sea.  You  come  out  of  its 
waters  as  red  as  a  crab,  and,  moreover,  greatly 
invigorated  and  refreshed.  The  Urmia  baths 
would  have  this  advantage  over  the  North  Sea 
— that  its  waves  are  not  in  the  least  dangerous, 
even  in  storms.  Stout  men  who  stretch  them- 
selves full  length  on  its  surface  float  without 
making  any  effort."  One  might  almost  infer,  from 
his  previous  reference  to  the  pigs,  that  the 
cautious  doctor,  before  entrusting  his  own  per- 
son to  the  waves,  wisely  tested  their  buoyant 
properties  by  means  of  the  familiar  exferimentum 
in  coT])ore  vilo ! 

The  town  of  Urmia  is  of  great  antiquity,  and 
was  of  some  fame  even  in  the  time  of  the  Romans. 
Its  chief  claim  to  renown  is,  however,  that  it 
was  there,  or  near  there,  according  to  the  latest 
authorities,  that  Zoroaster  himself  was  born.  It 
is  said  that  this  founder  of  one  of  the  oldest  re- 
ligions extant  first  taught  along  the  shores  of  the 
lake — a  curious  parallel  to  those  times,  700  years 
later,  when  the  Author  of  Christianity  likewise 
chose  the  side  of  a  lake  for  the  scene  of  His 
divine  teaching.  The  last  descendants  of  the 
Zoroastrians — or  "  fire- worshippers,"  as  you  some- 
times see  them  named — linger  on  in  Persia  under 
the  title  of  Gahrs,  living  chiefly  in  Yezd  and 
Kerman,  though  large  numbers  of  them  flourish, 
of  course,  in  India  under  the  name  of  Parsis. 
Apart,  though,  from  the  legitimate  adherents  to 
the  doctrines  of  the  great  prophet,   it  is  an  in- 


The  Grain  Market  at  Urmia. 


The  Last  Stage  253 

teresting  reflection  to  one  who  has  lately  visited 
his  birthplace  that  here  was  born  that  personality 
which,  as  metamorphosed  by  Nietzsche,  gave  rise 
to  that  conception  of  the  "  superman,"  which  (if 
one  is  to  believe  many  writers  of  the  moment) 
first  planted  the  seeds  w^hose  harvest  is  the 
present  European  War. 

The  town  itself,  set  in  the  centre  of  endless 
gardens  and  tobacco  -  fields  intersected  by  rows 
of  tall  French  poplars,  is  of  a  considerable  size, 
having  extended  appreciably  since  the  Russians 
began  to  police  the  country  and  brought  a 
hitherto  unknown  security  of  life  and  property 
to  its  inhabitants.  There  is  a  mile  or  so  of  fine 
vaulted  bazaar  running  through  the  centre  of 
the  town,  rich  with  the  scents  of  leather  and 
spices,  and  very  grateful  when  one  passes  into 
its  cool,  voluptuous  atmosphere  from  the  glare 
and  the  heat  outside. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  town  and  the  plain  are, 
like  those  of  the  rest  of  Azerbaijan,  of  a  race 
closely  allied  to  the  Ottoman  Turks,  and  speak 
a  language  (Turki)  which  is  practically  an  archaic 
form  of  modern  Turkish,  retaining  the  old  original 
words  which  their  ancestors  brought  with  them 
from  Central  Asia,  but  which  in  "  Stamboul " 
Turkish  have  been  so  often  superseded  by  words 
borrowed  from  Arabic  or  Persian.  One  might 
perhaps  roughly  compare  the  difference  to  that 
between  the  English  of  the  educated  classes 
to-day  and  the  dialects  of  those  counties  where 


254  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

the  old  Saxon  words  have  remained  most  in 
use.  The  Azerbaijanis  are  thus  entirely  distinct 
by  race  and  tongue  from  the  Persians,  although 
their  country  forms  part  of  the  empire.  In  the 
neighbourhood  of  Urmia  there  is  also  a  large 
sprinkling  of  Nestorians,  descendants  (as  far  as 
their  ancestry  can  be  traced)  of  the  ancient 
Assyrians.  They  are  really  mountain-folk  living 
in  the  wild  country  across  the  border  in  Turkey, 
where  their  religious  head — Mar  Shimum,  as  he 
is  called — has  his  abode.  Though,  like  the  Copts 
in  Egypt,  they  have  to  a  great  extent  adopted 
the  language  of  their  more  powerful  neighbours, 
their  own  original  Syriac  is  still  in  use  among 
them,  and  is  their  usual  medium  for  writing. 
Their  relations  with  the  Kurds  are  hardly  more 
fortunate  for  themselves  than  are  those  of  their 
fellow  -  Christians,  the  Armenians,  and  it  is 
questionable  which  of  the  two  has  suffered  most 
in  the  present  war ;  but  I  shall  come  to  the 
story  of  their  persecution  later. 

The  presence  of  the  Nestorians  seems  to  have 
been  originally  responsible  for  the  arrival  of 
American  missionaries  at  Urmia  in  1831,  where 
they  have  maintained  their  mission  —  I  think 
without  a  break  —  ever  since.  Wagner  visited 
them  in  their  early  days,  and  has  much  to  say 
about  their  kindness  and  hospitality,  though  he 
concludes  with  the  peculiarly  undiplomatic  re- 
mark that  "  Mr  Perkins  [the  head  of  the  Mission] 
seems  to  be  superior  in  character  and  intellect  to 


The  Last  Stage  255 

his  two  colleagues,"  which  invidious  comparison 
he  evidently  considers  amply  atoned  for  when  he 
adds  that  the  latter  '*  are,  however,  eminent  for 
piety  and  virtue "  !  Without  embarking  on  any 
such  conscientious  analysis  as  the  German  traveller, 
I  can  at  least  heartily  endorse  his  appreciation 
of  their  spirit  of  hospitality,  which  added  greatly 
to  the  pleasure  of  our  visit  to  Urmia.  But  it  is 
to  qualities  far  beyond  mere  hospitality  that  the 
deepest  tribute  must  be  paid  by  any  one  knowing 
the  story  of  these  missionaries  in  the  winter  of 
1914 — namely,  bravery  and^  self-sacrifice  equal  to 
anything  that  the  war  has  brought  to  light.  First, 
however,  1  must  give  some  account  of  what 
happened  at  Urmia  six  weeks  after  we  left. 

Long  before  Turkey  declared  war,  the  Turks 
incited  the  Kurdish  tribes  on  their  side  of  the 
frontier  to  descend  into  Persia  and  attack  the 
towns  of  Azerbaijan  which  were  garrisoned  by 
Eussian  troops.  At  that  time  there  were  at 
Urmia  several  members  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury's  Mission  to  the  Assyrian  Christians 
(a  Mission  which  came  into  being  rather  more 
than  twenty  years  ago  in  response  to  an  appeal 
by  the  Nestorians — or  "  Syrians  "  as  they  are  some- 
times, rather  ambiguously,  called — to  the  English 
Primate,  asking  him  to  send  out  priests  of  the 
Church  of  England  to  help  in  the  regeneration 
of  their  Church,  which  had  fallen  far  away  from 
the  doctrines  inherited  from  its  foundation  in 
450  A.D.)     The  missionaries  from  the  Turkish  side 


256  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

of  the  frontier  having  had  to  leave  their  stations, 
they  were  all  gathered  in  their  Urmia  quarters 
when  the  Kurdish  invasion  took  place,  of  which 
the  following  vivid  account  was  published  by  Mr 
MacGillivray,  the  head  of  the  Mission,  in  their 
quarterly  review  : — 

"  On  October  1  the  real  trouble  began.  On 
that  day  a  large  force  of  Kurds  came  down  to 
Tergavar,  drove  out  the  small  force  of  Cossacks, 
and  started  plundering  and  burning  the  Syrian 
villages.  Most  of  the  Syrians  escaped  and  fled 
to  the  city,  but  a  few  were  left  behind  and  killed. 
The  next  ten  days  were  a  reign  of  terror.  Every 
day  swarms  of  Kurds  poured  down  upon  the  plain. 
Every  night  some  village  or  another  was  attacked, 
pillaged,  and  burnt,  and  each  night  they  drew 
nearer  to  the  city.  Every  night  we  heard  a  con- 
tinuous fusillade,  and  saw  the  burning  villages 
around  us,  while  every  day  refugees  poured  into 
the  city.  All  the  Missions,  as  well  as  private 
houses  of  Christians,  were  full  of  them.  We  our- 
selves had  about  350  on  our  premises.  First  we 
filled  all  our  spare  rooms,  and  then  we  let  the 
others  camp  in  the  yard  until  every  square  foot 
was  occupied. 

"It  soon  became  evident  that  this  was  no 
ordinary  Kurdish  raid,  but  the  attack  of  an 
organised  army  several  thousand  strong.  It  was, 
in  fact,  a  deliberate  expedition  planned  and 
organised  by  Turks  (egged  on,  no  doubt,  by 
Germans),    whose   object    was    to    drive    out   the 


The  Rev.  O.  F.  Spearing  and  the  Rev.  J.  1).  Barnard  oi"  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury's  Mission  at  Urmia, 


The  Last  Stage  257 

Eussians  and  take  Urmia.  There  were  Turkish 
officers  among  the  Kurds,  and  they  had  German 
ammunition.  Moreover,  they  had  an  agreement 
with  the  Moslems  of  the  city,  who,  when  the 
Kurds  entered,  were  to  rise  and  join  with  them 
in  the  plunder  and  massacre  of  the  Christian 
quarter.  It  was  also  clear  that  the  small  force 
of  Cossacks  was  quite  insufficient  to  deal  with 
the  enemy.  The  Russian  Consul  assured  us  that 
reinforcements  were  coming,  but  day  after  day 
passed  and  no  reinforcements  appeared.  Then 
the  Russians  raised  a  very  useful  additional  force 
by  serving  out  rifles  and  ammunition  to  the 
Syrians.  We  even  got  half  a  dozen  rifles  and 
a  box  of  cartridges  ourselves,  ready  to  guard 
our  house,  hoping  that  the  Archbishop's  embargo 
on  priests  bearing  arms  did  not  apply  to  self- 
defence  against  a  horde  of  brigands. 

"The  climax  was  reached  on  Sunday,  October 
11.  All  day  we  saw  large  bands  of  Kurds  coming 
dow^n  the  mountain-slopes.  Besides  the  Cossacks 
the  Russians  had  a  few  guns  in  the  city,  and  with 
these  they  shelled  the  enemy  as  they  approached. 
From  our  roof  we  could  see  the  shells  dropping 
and  exploding  among  them.  This  checked  the 
attack  for  some  time ;  but  in  the  evening  after 
dark  the  enemy  came  on  again,  and  that  night 
made  a  very  determined  attack  on  Charbash — a 
village  not  more  than  half  a  mile  from  the  city 
wall.  Firing  began  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
and  continued   all  night ;    but   the  Russians  and 

R 


258  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

Syrians  together  made  a  good  defence,  and  in 
the  morning  the  enemy  retired,  leaving  many 
dead. 

''This  was  the  last  attack.  It  is  generally 
believed  that  the  attack  on  the  city  itself  was 
fixed  for  Monday  night,  and  behind  the  enemy's 
firing  line  were  large  numbers  of  women  and 
children  with  baskets  and  sacks,  all  ready  to 
carry  off  the  plunder.  But  they  never  got  their 
plunder.  On  Monday  we  again  saw  large  bands 
of  Kurds  on  the  mountain-slopes,  but  they  were 
going  the  other  way.  All  day  long  we  saw  them 
creeping  up  from  the  plain  and  hastily  retiring. 
This  was  explained  in  the  evening,  when  news 
came  that  large  Russian  reinforcements — infantry, 
artillery,  and  machine  -  guns  —  had  arrived,  and 
were  encamped  a  few  miles  off.  The  Kurds  did 
not  care  to  await  their  coming." 

Soon  after  this  abortive  attack  on  Urmia  the 
English  missionaries  were  ordered  to  return  to 
England,  and  when  on  January  2,  1915,  the  Rus- 
sian troops  evacuated  the  town,  and  the  Turkish 
troops  and  Kurdish  tribesmen  poured  into  the 
place,  the  American  missionaries  alone  were  left. 
The  Kurdish  tribesmen  having  the  Christian  popu- 
lation now  at  their  mercy,  committed  every  pos- 
sible sort  of  atrocity,  burning,  as  is  reported  on 
good  evidence,  over  100  villages,  and  slaughtering 
as  many  of  the  wretched  Nestorians  as  fell  into 
their  clutches.  '  The  Near  East,'  in  a  letter 
written    from    Urmia    in    July    1915,    gives    the 


The  Last  Stage  259 

following  description   of  what   took  place   in  the 
invaded  country  : — 

"A  massacre  took  place  in  the  village  of 
Gulpashan,  where  fifty  men,  after  being  tied 
arm  to  arm  by  the  soldiers,  aided  by  the 
native  Moslems,  were  taken  out  to  the  grave- 
yards and  were  there  butchered  like  animals. 
In  another  case  some  forty-six  men  were  taken 
out  from  the  French  Mission.  After  the  persons 
in  authority  had  given  assurance  that  they  w^ere 
to  be  transported  to  Turkey,  they  were  tied  to- 
gether and  were  shot  at  a  place  about  two  miles 
from  the  city.  They  were  killed  in  cold  blood, 
without  any  pretence  at  any  kind  of  trial.  One 
of  them  who  escaped  told  the  following  story: 
'We  were  tied  together  arm  to  arm,  and  made 
to  kneel  and  await  our  doom.  They  fired  at  each 
one  of  us.  Soon  after  the  firing  I  began  to  feel 
around  my  body  to  see  whether  I  was  shot.  I 
finally  came  to  the  conclusion  I  was  not  hit,  but 
I  fell  with  the  rest,  making  pretence  that  I  was 
dead.  After  we  had  all  fallen  they  came  near, 
and  stabbed  every  one  who  seemed  to  be  still 
breathing,  or  showing  the  slightest  sign  of  hfe 
in  him.  As  they  came  near  me  they  could  not 
find  any  sign  of  life,  for  I  made  believe  I  was  dead 
long  ago,  and  giving  me  a  kick,  they  left  us. 
After  they  had  departed  a  long  way  from  us  I 
got  up  and  made  my  way  to  the  American 
Mission.' " 

The    writer    of  this   letter    places    the   number 


26o  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

of  Christian  refugees  who  took  asykim  with  the 
missionaries  (who  fortunately  have  very  large 
jDremises,  with  spacious  courtyards  and  gardens) 
at  nearly  18,000,  of  whom  "nearly  2000  were 
lodged  for  weeks  and  months  in  the  church  with- 
out room  to  lie  down."  One  woman  who  had 
been  there  for  three  months,  and  had  nothing  but 
a  narrow  wooden  seat  to  sit  upon,  was  asked  if 
she  was  not  tired  of  remaining  always  in  the  same 
spot.  "  Oh  no,"  she  answered,  "  this  is  a  good 
place.  See,  I  have  a  place  for  my  head."  She 
had  a  pillar  behind  her  which  she  could  rest  her 
head  against  1  One  of  the  missionaries  had  gone 
out  at  the  beginning,  when  the  massacre  was  in 
full  swing,  and  interviewed  the  leader  of  the 
Kurds,  thereby  saving  the  lives  of  1000  villagers, 
whom  he  brought  safely  to  the  mission.  Another 
who  ventured  outside  the  mission  walls  was  seized 
and,  in  spite  of  his  nationality,  severely  beaten. 
But  the  real  heroism  of  this  little  colony — there 
were,  I  think,  eight  or  nine  men,  most  of  them 
with  their  wives — came  to  the  fore  when  the 
inevitable  epidemic  broke  out  among  this  packed 
crowd  of  refugees.  The  death-rate  in  their  court- 
yard reached  40  a  day,  and  it  was  with  great 
difficulty  that  the  missionaries  could  even  obtain 
leave  from  the  Turks  to  take  the  corpses  out  for 
burial.  Practically  all  of  them,  men  and  women, 
caught  typhus  from  the  sick  whom  they  tended, 
and  more  than  half  their  number  died. 

It  was  not  until  May  20th  that  the  Turkish 


t5 


« 


The  Last  Stage  261 

troops  and  their  Kurdish  auxiharies  withdrew, 
and  the  Christian  population  were  able  to  return 
to  their  ruined  homesteads.  Only  a  small  rem- 
nant of  their  race  can  have  survived  the  Kurdish 
massacres,  the  epidemic  in  the  American  Mission, 
and  the  enormous  mortality  among  those  who, 
when  the  Russian  forces  Avithdrew  from  Urmia, 
attempted  in  the  very  depth  of  winter  to  reach 
the  Russian  frontier  on  foot.  In  Urmia  itself 
hardly  a  single  Christian  escaped  except  those 
whom  the  gallant  Americans  saved. 

A  few  miles  to  the  south  of  Urmia,  a  solitary 
mountain,  named  Seer,  rises  out  of  the  plain,  and 
provides  a  cool  retreat  in  summer  when  the  heat 
in  the  town  below  becomes  excessive.  The  Rus- 
sian garrison,  consisting  of  a  regiment  of  infantry 
(the  5th  Caucasian  Rifles),  a  battery  of  guns,  and 
a  detachment  of  Cossacks,  were  camped  on  its 
slopes  when  we  arrived.  One  afternoon  we  drove 
out  along  a  road  many  inches  deep  in  white  dust 
to  call  on  the  ofllcers  of  the  mess.  We  intended 
to  pay  an  ordinary  afternoon  call,  but  we  had  yet 
to  learn  the  full  meaning  of  Russian  hospitality — 
when  w^e  left  Seer  it  was  after  midnight,  with  the 
regimental  band  playing  us  ofl",  and  an  escort  of 
Cossacks,  with  flaring  torches,  to  see  us  safely 
home.  From  six  o'clock  till  eleven  we  sat  at 
table,  commencing  with  a  sort  of  high  tea,  and 
drifting  imperceptibly  into  a  many-course  dinner. 
The  fact  that  none  of  us  spoke  a  word  of  Russian, 


262  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

nor  any  of  our  hosts  a  word  of  anything  else, 
heightened  rather  than  lessened  the  merriness  of 
the  proceedings,  for,  not  being  able  to  talk,  we 
sang.  Heaven  knows  how  many  times  over  we 
sang  our  own  and  each  other's  National  Anthems, 
with  the  Marseillaise  occasionally  sandwiched  in  ; 
and  when  at  last  we  had  satiated  our  patriotic 
ardour,  our  hosts  began  to  sing  queer,  plaintive 
songs  of  the  Caucasus,  half  Bussian,  half  Turkish, 
and  rousing  toasting  songs,  with  a  special  verse 
for  each  guest.  Presently,  in  answer  to  a  bugle- 
call  outside,  the  Colonel  and  his  officers  rose,  and, 
excusing  themselves  for  a  few  minutes'  absence, 
left  the  room.  They  had  gone  out  to  join  the 
men  at  evening  prayers,  and  after  a  few  minutes 
the  notes  of  a  hymn  came  floating  in  from  the 
hundreds  of  voices  outside.  After  they  had  re- 
turned, a  number  of  the  soldiers  themselves 
trooped  into  the  long,  bare  mess-room  (for  the 
regiment  was  mobilised,  and  everything  packed 
up  except  the  actual  chairs  and  tables).  The 
Caucasians  brought  in  with  them  a  strange-look- 
ing brass  trophy  fixed  to  the  end  of  a  pole,  re- 
minding one  rather  of  those  which  the  Roman 
legionaries  carried,  but  that  it  had  a  couple  of 
dyed  horse-tails  and  dozens  of  little  bells  attached 
to  it.  Together  with  a  guitar  and  cymbals,  it 
provides  the  music  for  their  songs  on  the  march, 
and  the  noise  which  this  primitive  orchestra  gave 
forth  when  shut  in  by  four  walls  was  deafening. 


The  Last  Stage  263 

The  soldiers  stood  in  a  ring  round  the  orchestra 
and  sang  with  all  their  souls,  their  coarse,  rather 
brutish  faces  lit  up  and  almost  transfigured  by 
their  enthusiasm  for  the  music.  After  they  had 
sung  for  some  time,  the  Cossacks  began  to  dance. 
At  first  they  were  the  same  dances  that  we  had 
seen  at  Ushnu,  with  the  same  slapping  of  boots, 
clicking  of  heels,  and  clashing  of  knives.  In  spite 
of  their  long  riding-coats  and  top-boots  these  little 
horsemen  were  amazingly  nimble,  and  soon  the 
pace  became  furious.  Their  ofiicer,  a  thin,  grey 
man  with  shaven  head  and  prodigious  moustaches, 
was  sitting  with  us,  and  I  could  see  his  eye  gleam- 
ing as  he  grew  more  and  more  excited  at  the 
dancing ;  suddenly  he  could  contain  himself  no 
longer — with  one  bound  he  jumped  from  his  seat 
at  the  table  to  the  centre  of  the  floor,  and  the 
next  moment  he  was  dancing  away  more  madly 
than  any  of  them. 

Some  of  the  Cossack  dances  are  really  a  rude 
sort  of  play  in  which  the  dancers  act  simple  parts, 
such  as  that  of  the  coy  maiden  being  wooed  by 
her  ardent  lover.  In  one,  more  elaborate  than  the 
rest,  a  Cossack  sat  alone  in  the  centre  of  the  floor 
whittling  away  at  a  stick  with  his  long  sheath- 
knife,  and  crooning  to  himself  A  dozen  of  his 
companions  came  and  formed  a  ring  round  him, 
crouching  on  the  ground  with  their  heads  bent 
low  and  their  hands  shading  their  eyes,  and 
chanting  a  dirge   of  misery.     Suddenly  the   man 


264  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

in  the  middle  sang  two  lines,  in  solo,  apparently 
to  the  effect  that — 

'*  What's  the  good  of  melancholy  1 
Life  was  made  for  joy  and  dancing," 

for  with  a  whoop  they  all  leapt  to  their  feet  and 
started  the  wildest  dance  imaginable,  singing, 
clapping  and  slapping  their  thighs  in  a  very 
ecstasy  of  motion. 

All  this  dancing  and  singing  was  very  strange 
to  Western  eyes.  It  is  so  palpably  inspired  by 
a  national  spirit  quite  different  to  our  own,  that 
to  me,  at  least,  it  seemed  to  typify  somehow  that 
great,  mysterious  Kussia,  which,  however  many 
books  are  written  about  it,  remains  to  most  of  us 
so  unknown  —  perhaps  so  unknowable.  Yet  in 
that  bare,  whitewashed  barrack  dimly  lit  by  a 
few  oil-lamps  slung  from  the  roof,  listening  to  the 
barbaric  music,  and  watching  the  uncouth  but 
fascinating  movements  of  the  dancers,  I  felt  a 
momentary  flash  of  insight  into  the  real  Slav 
spirit  such  as  no  other  surroundings  could  con- 
ceivably have  produced. 

After  a  bare  week  at  Urmia,  we  were  back 
again  at  work  on  the  frontier,  skirting  along  the 
foot  of  the  mountains,  as  before,  and  only  stopping 
to  set  up  pillars  on  the  passes.  On  August  21 
Ave  witnessed  the  interesting  spectacle  of  an 
eclipse  of  the  sun.  The  path  of  the  eclipse, 
passing  through  the  Crimea  and  Bagdad  towards 


The  Last  Stage  265 

India,  would,  we  knew,  nearly  intersect  our  line 
of  march,  and  it  was  a  little  uncertain  whether 
we  should  find  ourselves  within  the  belt  of  the 
shadow  or  not.  The  interest  was  therefore  in- 
tense, as  we  sat  with  darkened  telescopes  and 
bits  of  smoked  glass  watching  the  black  rim  of 
the  shadow  creep  over  the  sun,  and  hoping  for 
the  glorious  possibilities  of  coronas  and  polar  rays. 
The  orb  gradually  diminished  till  nothing  but  the 
thinnest  of  thin  shreds  was  left,  the  light  faded 
to  twilight,  it  grew  very  cold,  and  strange  lumin- 
ous ripples  began  to  race  over  the  ground ;  then 
the  shadow  slowed  down,  remained  stationary  for 
a  minute  or  two  and,  to  our  grievous  disappoint- 
ment, began  to  recede.  We  had  missed  a  total 
eclipse  by  a  few  miles. 

A  few  days  later  the  Commission  reached  the 
small  town  of  Dilman.  On  the  Avay  there  we 
passed  by  the  stronghold  of  a  somewhat  notorious 
Kurdish  chief,  whose  name  was  Ismail  Agha,  but 
who  was  usually  known  by  the  curiously  sounding 
nickname  of  "Simko."  It  was,  thanks  to  a  freak 
of  nature,  one  of  the  most  peculiar  places  I  re- 
member having  seen.  Through  the  middle  of  a 
level  plain  ran  a  deep,  square-cut  ravine  like  a 
gigantic  trench.  It  was  perhaps  300  yards  broad 
and  100  feet  deep,  but  remained  quite  invisible 
till  one  came  almost  up  to  its  brink.  In  the 
centre  of  this  ravine  a  great  mass  of  rock  stood 
up  like  an  island,  its  summit  a  little  below  the 
level  of  the  plain.     It  formed  a  perfect  natural 


266  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

citadel,  and  some  chieftain  had  seized  on  it  many 
years  ago,  and  built  a  castle  on  the  top,  so  cun- 
ningly contrived  that  it  was  next  to  impossible 
to  see  where  the  sheer  rock  finished  and  the  walls 
of  masonry  commenced.  Kound  the  foot  of  the 
rock  a  village  clustered,  as  villages  used  to  gather 
round  the  old  feudal  castles  in  the  days  of  the 
Barons.  "  Simko,"  however,  proved  himself  a 
very  degenerate  baron,  for  under  the  influence 
of  civilisation  he  had  abandoned  the  romantic 
home  of  his  ancestors,  and  was  busy  building  a 
banal  residence  on  the  edge  of  the  plain,  and — 
worst  horror  of  all — was  installing  a  telephone  ! 

From  Dilman  we  headed  again  into  the  moun- 
tains, and  climbed  to  an  altitude  of  7000  feet. 

Barely  100  miles  now  lay  between  us  and  our 
goal ;  already  a  cloud  -  wrapt  peak,  dimly  seen 
from  a  summit  some  days  before,  had  been  identi- 
fied as  the  great  Ararat  itself  And  here  let  me 
make  my  bitter  confession.  In  spite  of  my 
promises  to  the  patient  reader,  in  spite  of  the 
title  of  my  book  itself — I  never  set  foot  on 
Ararat !  My  only  sight  of  it  was  from  the 
window  of  a  railway  carriage,  and  all  my  hopes 
and  ambitions  of  climbing  its  snowy  heights 
were  destined  to  ruin.  The  reason  you  shall 
learn  before  I  close  this  book,  but  first  let  the 
Venerable  among  Mountains  have  his  due.  I 
must  needs  borrow  for  the  purpose,  for  I  have 
no  phrases  of  my  own  to  describe  the  majesty  of 
which  I  had  but  a  momentary  glimpse.     The  follow- 


The  Last  Stage  267 

ing  words  reveal,  however,  the  effect  which  it  pro- 
duced on  an  Enghsh  traveller  of  forty  years  ago  : — 

"Towering  above  all  and  soaring  up  into  a 
firmament  so  clear  as  at  once  to  convey  to  the 
mind,  or  rather  to  the  imagination,  an  idea  of 
infinite  space,  a  rugged  and  solitary  pyramid  of 
eternal  snow  dwarfs  by  comparison  every  neigh- 
bouring or  visible  headland.     It  is  Mount  Ararat. 

''The  Turks  call  it  Agridagh,  or  Mountain  of 
the  Ark  ;  the  Persians  Koo  -  i  -  noo,  or  Noah's 
Mountain ;  and  the  Armenians  Massees,  or  Mother 
of  the  World. 

"Moses  of  Khorene  pronounces  it  the  middle 
of  the  world ;  and  both  Eaumer  and  Hoff  main- 
tain that  it  is  the  central  point  of  the  great 
terrestrial  line  drawn  from  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope  to  Behring  Straits. 

"  Having  seen  the  mountain  of  the  Deluge  from 
several  points  of  view,  some  of  which  looked  up 
its  actual  sides,  I  am  of  opinion  that  nowhere  else 
on  the  face  of  the  earth  is  there  a  mountain 
whose  effects  on  the  mind  of  the  beholder  can  be 
compared  to  it. 

"  Many  other  mountains  in  the  world  are  much 
higher;  but  although  Ararat  is  only  17,210  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  it  soars  without  a 
rival  or  a  neighbour  —  a  solitary  pyramid  or 
cone,  10,876  feet  above  the  flat  plain  in  which 
it  stands.  It  is  this  circumstance  which  endows 
it  with  such  overpowering  majesty."  ^ 

1  From  Creagh's  'Armenians,  Koords,  and  Turks.' 


268  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

The  same  writer  relates  these  interesting 
traditions  connected  with  Ararat : — 

"  As  the  superstitious  Kurds  and  Armenians 
believe  that  the  Ark,  still  painted  green  and 
resting  on  the  extreme  summit,  is  guarded  by 
Jins  —  devils  or  evil  spirits  —  nothing  in  the 
world  will  persuade  any  of  them  to  ascend  its 
sides  beyond  a  certain  height. 

"A  monk  very  long  ago  indeed  attempted  to 
climb  up,  in  order  that  his  piety  might  be  whetted 
by  the  contemplation  of  a  piece  of  the  Ark  which 
he  proposed  to  bring  away  with  him  ;  but,  although 
employing  several  days  in  the  journey,  he  was  at 
length  obliged  to  desist,  for  in  the  evenings,  when 
failing  asleep  upon  the  mountain-side,  some  super- 
natural agency  carried  him  back  to  the  point  from 
which  he  had  started  in  the  morning. 

"  To  reward  him  for  his  pains,  however,  an  angel 
brought  him  down  a  piece  of  the  Ark,  and  in- 
formed him  at  the  same  time  that  since  the  land- 
ing of  Noah  no  human  being  had  ever,  or  ever 
would  be,  allowed  to  visit  the  place  of  his  dis- 
embarkation." 

The  obstacle  which  prevented  me  from  reaching 
our  goal  was  of  a  far  more  concrete  nature  than 
that  which  the  good  old  monk  encountered — 
namely,  a  Kurdish  bullet.  On  August  31  five 
of  us  were  attacked  by  local  tribesmen  while  we 
were  shooting  partridges  within  a  mile  or  two 
of  camp ;  and  though  my  companions  escaped 
injury — most  miraculously,  seeing  that  our  assail- 


The  Last  Stage  269 

ants  fired  several  scores  of  shots,  some  at  a  range 
of  httle  over  twenty  yards — I  had  the  misfortune 
to  be  hit.  Therewith  ended  my  connection  with 
the  Commission.  It  was  my  great  good  fortune 
to  be  in  the  skilful  hands  of  Captain  Pierpoint, 
and  together  we  returned  direct  to  England — as 
direct,  that  is  to  say,  as  is  possible  in  times  of 
European  war,  for  our  journey  lasted  no  less 
than  nine  weeks.  An  improvised  litter  carried 
by  the  Indian  soivars  was  my  first  conveyance, 
which  we  exchanged  on  reaching  the  level  plain 
for  a  rough  Hussian  ambulance,  to  be  replaced 
in  turn,  as  soon  as  we  reached  Khoi  and  a  so- 
called  road,  by  the  most  modern  type  of  motor 
ambulance  sent  from  the  frontier  to  meet  us  by 
the  Russian  Commandant.  At  Julfa,  the  frontier 
town  and  railhead  of  the  Caucasus  railway,  the 
Belgian  Director  of  Customs  offered  us  the  hos- 
pitality of  his  house,  while  the  Russian  officials, 
to  whom  I  have  cause  to  be  everlastingly  grate- 
ful, provided  a  special  coach  for  us  for  the  two- 
days'  journey  through  Tiflis  to  Batoum  on  the 
Black  Sea.  From  there  we  took  a  Russian  steamer 
to  Constantinople,  touching  at  all  the  Turkish 
ports  on  the  southern  shore  of  the  Sea  on  the 
way,  and  being  held  up  for  a  day  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Bosphorus  —  thanks  to  the  attentions  of 
the  Goehen,  who,  with  her  consort  the  Breslau, 
was  diverting  herself  with  target  practice  just 
outside  the  entrance  to  the  straits.  We  reached 
Constantinople   to   find   the   Dardanelles    already 


270  From  the  Gulf  to  Ararat 

closed,  though  war  was  not  yet  declared  between 
Turkey  and  the  Allies ;  but  by  taking  train  to 
the  Bulgarian  port  of  Dedeagatch  we  were  able 
to  get  on  board  a  British  steamer  which  crept 
down  the  Syrian  coast  to  Egypt,  "  and  so 
home,"  as  Pepys  would  say,  landing  there  early 
in  November — just  a  year  from  the  time  we  had 
started.  Incidentally  we  had,  in  the  course  of 
this  year,  made  the  exact  circuit  of  the  Turkish 
dominions  in  Asia. 

Three  weeks  after  the  attack  on  our  party, 
the  Commission,  now  dwindled  down  to  very 
small  numbers,  reached  the  point  on  Mount 
Ararat  where  the  Turco-Persian  frontier  now  joins 
up  with  the  frontiers  between  these  two  countries 
and  the  Bussian  Empire.  When  the  two  officers 
who  remained  (the  others  had  gone  back  to 
India)  started  to  return  to  England,  they  found 
every  way  closed  to  them  except  Archangel ; 
and  so,  for  the  first  time  probably  since  the 
days  of  those  early  merchant  adventurers,  Eng- 
lishmen followed  the  route  from  Persia  to  their 
native  land  via  the  Arctic  Ocean. 


INDEX 


Abadan,  31 
Abbas,  Shah,  3,  123 
Adela  Khanoun,  174  et  seq. 
Aden,  26 

Ahwaz,  38,  39,  151 
Ali  Illahis,  166 

Ararat,  Mount,  1,  84,  266  et  seq. 
Archangel,  139,  270 
Ardelan  tribe,  214 
Avroman  Mountains,   172,   178  et 
seq.,  222 

Bagdad,  114,  119  et  seq.,  155 

Bagdad  Railway,  123,  136,  149 

Bakhtiari  Mountains,  63,  66 

Baksai,  100 

Bakuba,  116,  159 

Balad  Ruz,  116 

Baneh,  201  et  seq.,  221 

Basra,  34  et  seq.,  140  et  seq.,  155 

Batoum,  269 

Bedrai,  106  et  seq. 

Belems,  43,  68,  71,  73 

Beni  Lam  tribe,  69,  70,  76,  80 

Biare,  187 

Birds,  varieties  of,  65,  72,  78,  79, 

116,  196,  232 
Bisaitin,  72 
Brooke,    Captain  A.    H.,    17,   95, 

197 
Bushire,  29 

Canning,  Sir  Stratford,  6 
Caspian  Sea,  199 


Champeraw,  198 

Chiasurkh,  164 

Cowie,  Major  H.  M.,  17,  56 

Ctesiphon,  122 

Curzon,  Hon.  Robert,  6 

Curzon,  Lord,  12,  148,  211 

Diaiji,  46 

Diala,  River,  116,  159 
Dilman,  265 
Douerij,  River,  81 
Dyer,    Captain    F.    L.,     17,    95, 
96 

East  India  Company,  34,  129,  139 

et  seq. 
Ecbatana,  213,  249 
Eclipse  of  the  sun,  264 
Eden,  Garden  of,  36 
El  vend,  River,  160,  162,  163 
Erzeroum,  7,  86 
Erzeroum,  Conference  of,  6 
Escort,  50 

Fao,  30,  56 

Fauna,  varieties  of,  64,  65,  72,  78, 
79,  165,  168,  200 

Floods  in  Mesopotamia,  81  e^  seq. 

Eraser,  J.  B.,  23,  216,  266 

Frontier,  Turco-Persian,  1 

Frontier,  Turco-Persian,  Commis- 
sion, 1848,  9,  76 

Frontier,  Turco-Persian,  Commis- 
sion, 1913,  7,  16,  45,  77 


272 


Index 


Goeben,  269 
Gufas,  125 
Gulambar,  192 
Guran  tribe,  166 

Hakkari  tribe,  214 
Halebja,  173  et  seq. 
Hindieh  Barrage,  154 
Howeiza,  67 

Irrigation   in    Mesopotamia,    137, 
152  et  seq. 

Jaff  tribe,  174,  175 
Javid  Pasha,  131 
Julfa,  269 

Kandil  Mountains,  233 
Kandol,  226 

Karun,  River,  82,  57,  59,  147 
Kasr-i-Sherin,  151,  161  et  seq. 
Kazimein,  119,  132  et  seq. 
Keleshin,  Pass  of,  24S 
Kerbela,  62,  117,  123,  129 
Kerkha,  67,  69,  74 
Kermanshah,  39,  67,  148 
Kermanshah- Bagdad  road,  117 
Khanieh,  231 
Khan-i-Guermela,  190 
Khanikin,  136,  160 
Kizil  Robat,  160 
Kotur,  13 
Koweit,  149 

Kurdish  costumes,  185,  186,  202, 
206 

,,        language,  215 

,,         religions,  219 

„        villages,  179,  180,  234 

,,        women,  178,  185,  207 
Kurds,  128,  185,  210  et  seq. 
Kurna,  36 
Kut-el-Amara,  96 

Layard,  Sir  H.,  63 
Luristan,  76,  85 
Lurs,  66,  76,  88,  98 

Mamash  tribe,  237 
Mansur-ul-Mamalik,  238 
Map,  Identic,  10,  15,  112 


Marshes,  71  e^  seq. 

Mendeli,  77,  112,  113 

Mesopotamia.     Chap.  IX. 

Mirage,  60 

Mission,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury's,  255 

Missionaries,  American,  254  el  seq. 

Mohammad  Amin  Agha,  235 

Mohammerah,  32,  37  et  seq.,  43, 
155 

Mohammerah,  Sheikh  of,  34,  39, 
46,  47 

Mules,  51,  93 

Murad,  Sultan,  4,  123 

Muscat,  27 

Nakhsbendi  dervishes,  182,  193 
Nazargahs,  23 
Nestorians,  254  et  seq. 
Nineveh,  249 

Oil-fields,  14,  31,  150 
Overland  route,  146 

Pasova,  236 

Persian  Navy,  40 

Persian  War,  38 

Pierpoint,    Captain    H.    W.,    17, 

196,   200,  269 
Pig,  wild,  65,  78 
Pilgrims,  117,  135 
Piracy,  34 
Piran,  195 
Pusht-i-Kuh,  97 
Pusht-i-Kuh,  Wali  of,  98  et  seq. 

Russian  Cossacks,  243  et  seq.,  261 
Russian  dancing,  244,  263 
Ryder,  Colonel  C.  H.  D.,  17,  231 

Said  Hassan,  lands  of,  105 

Saladin,  213 

Sand-grouse,  65 

Sassanian  remains,  163 

Schultz,  Dr,  248 

Senna,  215 

Serdasht,  227 

Seyyids,  62,  68,  71 

Shahriz,  ruins  of,  87 

Shahr-i-zur  plain,  172,  174,  175 


Index 


273 


Shatir,  75,  95,  100 
Shatt-el-Arab,  30,  36 
"Simko,"265 
Sinbad  the  Sailor,  37 
Sirvan,  River,  171,  185 
Soaue,  Mr  E.  B.,  166,  169, 

215 
Suleyman  the  Magnificent,  3, 

Tavila,  181  et  seq. 
Tchirikoff,  General,  4 
Tyb,  River,  87,  89 

Umm  Chir,  58,  75,  76 
Urmia,  250  et  seq. 
Urmia,  Lake  of,  237,  251 
Ushnu,  218,  219,  237  et  seq. 


Vezneh,  230 

Wagner,  Dr  Moritz,  251 
Willcocks,    Sir  William,   84,    152 
et  seq. 
175,       Williams,  Sir  Fenwick,  6 

Wilson,    Captain    A.    T.,    17,    51, 
123  133,  187,  201,  227,  231 

Wratislaw,    Mr  A,    C,    17,    114, 
230 

Zab,    River,   208,  226,  231,   233, 
236 

Zerzaw  tribe,  238 
Zohab,  165,  166 
Zorbatia,  110 
Zoroaster,  252 


THE    END. 


PBINTEI;   BV    WILLIAM   BLACKWOOD   AND  SONS. 


14  DAY  USE 

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